Invictus
by madi-solo
Summary: The day Janet Carlisle went missing, so did one of the world's most dangerous magical artifacts. A year has gone by, but Stephen Strange still refuses to give up his search, and there are two reasons why. One: he knows she's still out there somewhere. And two: the artifact has fallen into hands that could cause untold destruction across the cosmos. -Sequel to Arcanum-
1. Chapter 1

Some places were quiet and serene, their inhabitants harmoniously intertwined with nature. Some societies were lawful and without anarchy, serving as bastions of order amidst chaos. Some cultures were kind and filled with light, their peoples generous and benevolent.

This place was none of those things. Shadow City, they called it—a neon metropolis teeming with people but not with resources. Thieves and murderers thrived here. Gangs and mercenaries roamed its vulnerable streets, ruthlessly stalking any prey that was too weak to defend itself. There was no law here, no price to pay for crimes committed. The only justice served came from citizens who dared to take that responsibility into their own hands, who were brave enough and desperate enough to fight back against their oppressors.

Chaos was in the bones of this city. Every human, alien, and creature in this place was struggling to survive, to earn their place amongst the living. There was no rest to be had here, never too much time to think—never time to dwell on past wrongs and regrets.

And that was just fine with Janet.

There was so much noise, so much ceaseless chatter. It had overwhelmed her at first. But now she embraced it, relished it. She could blend into a crowd and pass unnoticed. She could see without being seen. And best of all, she could act without the permission or approval of anyone else. It was just her now.

But that did not mean she cared for nothing or that she viewed every cause as unworthy of her efforts. The truth was quite the opposite, in fact. Witnessing the plight of these poor people firsthand had propelled her into action. She had thought that perhaps, even in her isolation, she might be able to do some good. Her journey through the mysterious gateway had not been the end she feared it was. Instead, it was a beginning.

Here, she had found a new life—a new purpose. And she was just getting started.

The sound of a door hissing open some distance below her suddenly drew her back to the present. Perched on a steel beam and cloaked in shadow, Janet peered down at the three Balurrians entering the room. They towered over the human man who stood waiting for them—large, burly, and lion-like. Thick manes grew around their fearsome faces, their short noses scrunched in contempt.

"Did you bring the cargo?" the one who appeared to be in charge growled impatiently.

"Yes," the smuggler assured them, lifting the lid from the container that floated in front of him. "I have what you came for."

Janet frowned—more plasma weapons. Automatic rifles, shotguns, grenades—even a rocket launcher.

"Blastaar will be pleased," the Balurrian remarked, detaching a small pouch from his belt and tossing it into the open palm of the dealer.

 _Oh yes, he would've been,_ she mused. _If he had ever received them._ Closing her eyes, she gripped the beam tighter and focused. Every light in the room suddenly went dark. Newly absorbed power pulsed through her veins. But her abilities had grown far beyond the simple conversion of positive energy.  
Now, she could sense what existed between all things, the gaps that many referred to as empty space. But they were far from vacant. They, too, were occupied by matter, ever expanding. She could hear every heartbeat, could feel the vibrations of the Balurrians' infuriated voices as they disrupted the steady hum around her. Even in the blackness, she could see them spinning wildly in every direction.

"No!" the smuggler cried, hands flying to his head. "Not her! Not—"

Janet descended in silence. For half a moment, she hung in the air. Then she landed on the man's shoulders, simultaneously striking his head with the grip of her pistol. As he crumpled to the ground, she was already moving on to her next opponent. Several fiery plasma blasts lit up the room, but she glided effortlessly between them.

Dropping into a slide, Janet holstered her gun with one hand and drew her dagger with the other. She passed behind the first Balurrian, slicing the tendon of his right ankle and bringing him to his knees. As his weapon clattered to the floor, she rose and spun, cutting his throat in a single fluid motion.

The second Balurrian lunged toward her, his meaty arms spread wide, but Janet teleported behind him. Raising her pistol, she fired three quick shots into the back of his head and put him down. The flashing of her weapon betrayed her position, and the Balurrians' leader sent a crackling plasma bolt her way. She dropped her gun, both arms remaining extended.

The projectile ground to a halt halfway between them. The creature's feline eyes widened. Only now, when it was too late, did he realize his mistake. Janet smirked behind her mask, allowing the sizzling streak of energy to tremor there a moment longer. Then she clenched her right hand into a fist and yanked it back toward her chest, her left hand thrusting even farther forward and sending the bolt straight through the Balurrian's heart.

It came out his back and crashed into the far wall, leaving a small, smoking crater similar to the one in the creature's chest. With a weak groan, he collapsed facedown onto the floor and moved no more. She slowly lowered her hand, then bent down and retrieved her pistol.

The smuggler had come to, and his fingers frantically found the fallen rifle of a Balurrian. Walking calmly over to him, Janet lifted one booted foot and then crushed them beneath her heel. He screamed, squirming and uselessly trying to pull his hand free.

"You chose the wrong side," she said, glaring disdainfully at his pathetic attempts to flee.

"Please," he begged, "let me go! I haven't hurt anyone! I just—I just sell the weapons!"

"Yes, that's right. You sell them to brutes like Blastaar. And do you know what he does to people?"

"Please—I'm sorry! I-I won't do it anymore! I'll change my ways! Yeah, I'll—"

A single gunshot shattered the air. The fingers beneath her foot became still. Exhaling, Janet holstered her pistol and turned toward the sizable shipment of weapons. Now that they were hers, they would be delivered into much worthier hands. It was time for the people of Shadow City to rise up against the savages who had terrorized them into submission.

This place had stayed the same for far too long. It needed a defender, a protector who would guide it into a better future. It needed her.


	2. Chapter 2

_The dark was closing in on her, the green lights flickering on the wall. She could hear his snarl, smell his breath._

 _"Casssssie," he leered from around the corner._

 _She got to her feet uneasily and summoned a force between her hands. Everything inside her screamed for her to run, but she couldn't. She had to face him._

 _He rounded the corner, sprinted at her. But right before his claws reached her throat, she fell to the floor. Jack had her pinned to the ground, his teeth bared. Norman stood over her and slowly began to laugh._

 _"You're going to die, child. You're going to die."_

Cassie awoke in a pool of sweat, unable to breathe, choking on nothing. She tumbled off the bed and curled her fingers into fists, pressing them against the sides of her head, digging her knuckles into her eyes. Finally, she sucked in a shuddery breath and climbed to her feet. _Every...night._

Stumbling from the room, Cassie threw open her door using her powers and sent it crashing against the wall. Her bare feet skidded on the tile as she threw open Steve's door. Cassie stood watching him for a moment, sleeping in the dark. Maybe she should rouse him this time...

Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her jaw. She didn't need a babysitter.

Stumbling back from the room, she closed his door softly and returned to her own room to throw on a pair of shoes and grab a jacket. In half a moment, she had the portal open and was already stepping through it.

Rain pattered against her face, but Cassie didn't care. The building was abandoned. Likely the government's call. After what had been discovered since their battle on the roof, Oscorp had been shut down indefinitely. And with Norman and Jack unaccounted for, that was no surprise.

Cassie sloshed through grime and muck and climbed the steps to the building's interior. The doors were supposed to be padlocked, but Cassie had blown them open a couple of weeks ago. She tread the familiar path and took the stairs two at a time, finally reaching the basement. She was hardly out of breath. Every night for the past two months, she'd come here.

Wiping her soaked hair from her forehead, Cassie stepped forward slowly. Three cells on the right. She stopped in each. Empty. Empty. Empty. Who had suffered inside them? Who had lost their lives?

The fourth was hers. Cassie let her eyes roam over every crack and crevice, every bulb now broken, the cell dark if it weren't for the light from her fingers. Sitting, she let her head fall into her hands.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" she screamed to no one in particular.

Of course, there was no response. She was alone.

Eventually, she pulled herself up from the floor and walked through the empty halls. She felt so alone... They didn't understand.

"Cassie?"

She whipped around, wide-eyed, and sent magic crackling through her fingers.

"Whoa, whoa... It's just me. Barton."

She lowered her hands and stared at him coolly. "What are you doing here?"

He was hidden in the shadows, but she could hear him clearly. "I wanted to talk to you."

Cassie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Fine. Let's go upstairs. You don't want to be down here, Barton."

He followed her past the broken elevator, toward the stairs, and they climbed in silence. They soon reached the lobby with broken windows and open doors that let in more light, though it wasn't much due to the rain and the clouds outside. Cassie picked up a chair that had tipped over and sat, squeezing her hands together tightly. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Um...so...Cassie. Listen..."

"Spit it out," she sighed impatiently.

"Fine." He sat forward in his own chair and leaned toward her. He was soaked to the bone, his clothes leaving wet puddles beneath his chair and his hair still damp. "You can't keep coming here."

"What business is it of yours?" she snapped.

"It's unhealthy."

Cassie didn't say anything for a long moment. She knew he was right, but somehow, she thought if she faced it...maybe the nightmares could disappear.

"You don't understand," she sighed.

He didn't answer for a moment but stood, his back to her. "I do."

She waited, hearing the rain patter on the tiles near the front entrance.

"When the attack on New York happened, I wasn't on the good side. Loki had me under his control."

Cassie lowered her gaze and stared at the dirty floor.

"I do understand, Cassie. And I can tell you now that this won't help. It took me a long time...to feel normal again."

She swallowed heavily as Barton turned to face her.

"This isn't what's going to make you feel normal again."

"They're in my head," she whispered. She could hear his exhale.

"It'll get better."

He extended his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it, allowing him to help her up.

"Think you can get us back to the Sanctum? Or the Complex? Wherever you're staying now?"

Cassie summoned a portal and immediately stepped through it, Barton following her. They stood in one of the many hallways of the Avengers Complex, and Cassie sighed reluctantly.

"We're at the Complex temporarily. I heard from Stephen. When I hear from Stephen, Steve and I come here to meet with Tony. I'm going to bed."

Clint didn't say anything, and she walked slowly down the hallway back toward her room. When she opened the door, she found Steve sitting on her bed, staring at the far wall absently. She stopped when she saw him, guilt rising in her chest. His eyes were filled with frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, longer and thicker now, and sighed.

"Cass, we talked about this. I asked you-"

"You don't get it, Steve. I needed to do it."

He turned his back on her, placing his hands on his hips. He wore his sweatpants and a t-shirt still, so she knew he couldn't have been up too long.

"How'd you know I-?"

He whipped around, and she froze. "I was worried about you. You acted weird when we were talking with Stark last night, and I was concerned. So I came to check on you, and you weren't here."

"So you sent Barton after me?"

His brow furrowed. "No."

She sighed and shook her head. "Well, he was there."

She grabbed some dry clothes from a dresser and excused herself into the bathroom. The closed door didn't stop Steve's lecture.

"You told me a month ago that if you were gonna go back, you'd take me with you."

She threw open the door, wearing a clean white t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and stared up at him. "I've been going every night, Steve. Every night. I considered getting you, but you wouldn't understand."

Cassie could see the hurt in his eyes, and she wished she could take back her words.

He swallowed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I thought you trusted me more than that."

She opened her mouth to speak but felt a knot swelling in her chest. He turned to go, and she caught up to him quickly. "Stevie, wait."

He turned, the sound of the nickname she used for him causing him to stop.

"I'm-I'm sorry. It's just," she paused, taking a deep breath, "hard, okay? I have dreams every night. Sometimes he's a man. Sometimes he's half man, half beast. Sometimes he's something I can't even believe I would dream up, but Norman is always there. He won't get out of my head."

"I know it's difficult," he frowned. "But if you keep lying to me, then what even is this?"

His words stung her a little. "Stevie, I-"

"Let's talk in the morning, okay, Cassie?"

She nodded, wanting to respect the space he asked for. Steve ran a hand through his hair, took a last look at her, then and left the room.

IIIIIIIIII

She ran through the streets, seemingly alone, resisting the urge to think. Because if she started to think, she wouldn't like what came up. Cassie rounded a corner and stopped, taking a quick breath.

"Why run anyway? Can't we take a cab?"

She stared at the man on her shoulder and shook her head. "I like to run. Keeps me...occupied."

Scott sighed and jumped off, quickly growing into his full form. "So, the tip is from Stephen?"

"Yeah. I heard from him yesterday evening. He said that the guy here might know something. He has 'connections', whatever that means."

Scott nodded and shrank again, and Cassie looked around to make sure the interaction had gone unseen. She continued running, lungs stronger than they had been even a year ago. _A year ago..._

Everything stopped. Green beams shot before her vision. She could feel the needle. Cassie's hand instinctively flew to her shoulder, where her brand lay, and she felt herself slipping into a waking nightmare. _He would come... The Darkhold... It would all be over soon..._

"Cassie?!"

Scott's voice snapped her out of her memories, and she glanced, surprised, into his brown eyes. She hadn't remembered kneeling. Scott held her firmly by both shoulders, and Cassie slowly tried to calm her breathing.

"I'm sorry." She cleared her throat, crawling to her feet. "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay," he smiled, squeezing her shoulder.

She nodded seriously and brushed past him, continuing on their path. Cassie didn't bother to run. The sounds of cars honking and lights flashing was a normal sight on a busy Manhattan morning.

She thought back to her call with Stephen. Cassie didn't get to see him much. He hadn't found Janet or Jack, which meant that the _Darkhold_ evaded him too. He was constantly searching, and though she didn't admit it, she missed him.

Cassie gritted her teeth and adjusted the gun at her side, unused thanks to her powers, and trekked on.

IIIIIIIIII

They climbed the steps, Scott's hand on her lower back, guiding her upwards.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Scott."

"I know."

She knocked on the door, and they waited.

"Yes?"

A thicker man with tousled blonde hair had answered the door. He took one look at them before his eyes narrowed, then widened. "Come in."

She didn't say a word, stalking forward purposefully.

"We'd like to speak with Matt Murdock," Scott said solemnly.

The stranger sighed and nodded. "Give me just a minute."


	3. Chapter 3

The weapons had been delivered. A small band of rebels who had taken to calling themselves the Slingers had been all too eager to receive them, and Janet knew that the arms would not go to waste. They were a young group—inexperienced—but they were brave and strong-willed. They had grown tired of living in a city governed by chaos, and they sought to put an end to it. That was reason enough for her to further enable them.

Now she was returning to her humble dwelling in the depths of the Undercity. Instead of looking out over the tops of towering skyscrapers as she had once done, Janet passed silently below them. Her recent exploits had required that she remain close to the ground, amidst the grime and the sickness and the poverty that so many people had been forced to accept as their reality while crime lords lived in lavish high-rises.

That had been her life once. When she was working for Oscorp, she had believed that she was finding solutions for the common man and woman. But it had all been a lie. The whole time, Norman Osborn had been luring her further and further from reality, using what was left of her conscience to bring his own twisted plans to fruition. And not only had he led her astray, but her brother as well.

Janet had no idea where Jack was now, but she feared what he would do—what he would become—if the _Darkhold_ was still in his possession. She had seen the book's effect on Norman, how it had driven him mad, and she wondered whether it was possible for anyone to resist its tempting offers of ancient knowledge and unlimited power. Certainly, she could not. She had already given in once—had read no more than two pages of it—but even that had changed her forever.

Janet released a deep sigh, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. The same pair of footsteps had been following her for several blocks now. It was time to find out who they were and what they wanted. Ensuring that she maintained a casual pace, she took the next right turn and then slipped into an adjacent alleyway. Janet vanished into the shadows, awaiting the arrival of whoever was foolish enough to think that they could sneak up on her.

Several seconds went by. The footsteps drew closer, and she held her breath in anticipation. But when they finally rounded the corner, she saw nothing—no one. _Impossible,_ Janet thought. She could clearly discern the presence of a strong, steady heartbeat no more than three meters in front of her.

 _They must be cloaked somehow,_ she realized. Circling behind her invisible pursuer, Janet inched closer. As she focused her attention on the rhythmic thumping of the heart, she was able to use that single source to expand her senses to the rest of the body that housed it. Creeping silently forward, she came within reach of her prey and revealed herself at last.

Janet snatched the taller form by the shoulder with one hand and drew her dagger with the other, pressing its blade against the throat of the man who suddenly materialized in front of her. In response, he activated a strange device on his belt that emitted a scream so shrill it bypassed her ears and traveled straight to her brain. The knife fell from her hand. She staggered backwards and collapsed.

Janet couldn't breathe. The air was trapped somewhere inside her chest. Her gaze was wide and frantic, her lips moving soundlessly as she fought to refill her aching lungs. The masked man knelt beside her, his eyes white and glowing. Everything was blurry. She couldn't see straight—it looked like there were ten of him.

"That wasn't very nice."

His voice was low, metallic, and unafraid. A strangled gasp escaped her as Janet stared up at him, and he considered her for a moment.

"You've been making quite the mess around here. _Dusk_ , is it? Oh yes, I know all about you. I've been watching you. But I must admit that you're still quite the mystery to me."

"W-who—?"

"Who am I? I am the protector of this city. You can call me Lockdown."

He was lying—he had to be. If he truly was Shadow City's protector, where had he been all this time? Why had he sat back and done nothing while Blastaar and his gang took control of the Undercity?

"Consider this your first and final warning," he continued gravely. "If you continue to interfere in the affairs of this city, I will be forced to remove you from the equation. I know that you believe what you are doing is right, but trust me when I say that you are only making the situation worse. You can't kill your way to a solution."

"C-coward!" she wheezed.

He shook his head. "No. Violence is cowardice. Bloodlust and senseless murder are the result of a refusal to seek viable alternatives. Your actions are reckless and give no thought to consequences. I can no longer allow your activities to go unchecked."

Her fingers twitched involuntarily, her jaw clenching. Who did this man think he was, threatening her in this way? She took orders from no one— _no one._

"For your sake," he added finally, "I hope our paths never cross again."

Janet blinked, grimacing as she started to regain some of the feeling in her limbs. Lockdown stood and gazed at her silently for a moment. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her lying alone in the dark alleyway.


	4. Chapter 4

They stepped inside the narrow hallway of the office. Her eyes flicked to the artwork on the wall, sparse as it was. The blond man stood warily in front of her. She smirked and gazed at Scott, who had his brows lowered and his eyes narrowed.

The man turned from them and entered through a door on the left. They could hear him speaking but could not discern the words that were said.

A moment later, another man stepped into the hall. He wore a suit, crisp and black, red tie on, but his shirt was untucked and his dark hair was slightly disheveled. She noticed immediately how handsome he was, though she couldn't see his eyes because of the dark sunglasses he wore. He extended a hand to her first and then to Scott.

"Matt Murdock."

"Nice to meet you." Scott inclined his head as he shook Matt's hand.

"I'm aware of why you're here." Matt's voice was soft. "Why don't you step inside?"

He gestured to the door behind him.

IIIIIIIIII

Cassie sat, hands clenched, staring at the man they were now relying on.

"I have heard of his recent whereabouts, and I may know where to find more information."

Matt spoke of Jack.

"Excellent," she interjected. "Where?"

"I'll go tonight and see what I can find out."

Her brows furrowed, and she shot a glance at Scott. "We'll come too," she said firmly.

"I don't think that's best."

"I don't think it's up for debate," she murmured, staring sternly at him.

He didn't hesitate long. "Fine. Meet me here at eight then."

Cassie nodded and turned to stare at the door behind her, where the blond man stood. With Scott at her side, they moved to leave.

"It could be dangerous, you know," Matt said behind them.

"I'm well acquainted with danger," she smirked.

IIIIIIIIII

There was a knock on her door, and Cassie raised her eyes as it opened. Steve stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes directed at the floor. Neither moved for a moment, though her heart clenched inside her chest. Finally, she stood and approached him.

"Hey, Stevie," she mumbled, trying to smile.

"Listen, Cass-"

"Steve, I'm so sorry," she blurted out. "I never should have lied to you. It was stupid, and it won't happen again. And I-"

"I think we should take a break," he responded without acknowledging anything she'd said.

Cassie's face lost all color as she comprehended his words. "B-but, Steve..."

"I think it's for the best," he murmured softly, unwilling to meet her eyes.

"Steve, I'm sorry," she choked out softly, voice breaking.

"Don't," he whispered, finally meeting her eyes as a tear traced from her cheek down to her jaw. "Don't do that."

"Steve, I promise, I'm so sorry. And I won't-I won't-I love you."

"I can't do this, Cassie. There was much too lying, and...I don't want to fight. This would be best."

She nodded wordlessly, jaw clenched tightly.

He turned and paused at the doorframe. "I'm sorry, Cassie."

He closed the door behind him. Cassie pressed her knuckles against her eyes, sinking into the bed. There was a hollowness quickly spreading through her. She loved him, and he was gone.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't go with Scott tonight. Her heart felt like it would burst at any second.

Cassie was angry. Angry with herself for pushing Steve away. Angry for acting like a fool. And angry for feeling this way about him in the first place.

She picked up her cellphone and pressed Stephen's name. He picked up on the second ring.

"Cassie, what is it? I can't really talk right now," he said hurriedly.

It caught her off guard, and it took her a moment to respond.

"Cassie?"

"Stephen..." Her voice broke slightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked instantly.

"I just-just wanted to talk. Will you be able to visit soon?"

"Cassie, honestly, I don't have time for small talk."

"Janet-have you found her?" she asked, unwilling to have him hang up.

Stephen hesitated. "No. No, I haven't. Listen, maybe we can talk later?"

"Okay..." Cassie felt a tear fall down her cheek.

"Bye, Cassie."

"Okay..."

He clicked off the call before she had returned his goodbye. Her lip trembled, and she sat on the edge of the bed. They would be here any second...

As if on cue, Friday's voice filled the speaker in her room. "Scott Lang has arrived."

Cassie brushed the two tears from her cheeks and stood, leaving her room. She found Tony opening a door for Scott.

"Ready?" Scott smiled at her.

She nodded wordlessly. Tony watched her approach with concerned eyes. Finally, he reached out a hand and laid it on her shoulder, gently squeezing before letting go.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Scott was talking with Pepper and didn't notice.

She nodded and pulled away from his hand, glaring at the floor.

"Good luck," Tony said. "Don't come back early. Pepper and I are having a night in. And we certainly don't need bugs during dinner."

He raised an eyebrow at Scott, who rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Cass," Scott motioned.

The nickname was like a punch to her gut, and she felt herself struggling to breathe. Biting the inside of her cheek, Cassie brushed past him.

IIIIIIIIII

That entire evening, Cassie didn't speak unless spoken to. Her replies were curt and to the point. She'd insulted Scott once, but when she'd seen the hurt creep into his features, she'd regretted it.

They all knelt near the edge of a rooftop, staring over it

"Stay here," Matt commanded, dressed in dark black, almost invisible against the night sky.

"Forget it," Cassie hissed. "I didn't come out here to be told to wait like a good girl. If we're going to deal with this person and get to Jack, I'm helping. If he knows anything, I'll make him talk."

Matt turned, his features hard. "Wait here," he repeated. "I'll return after I get the lay."

Scott held her shoulder as she started to stride after Matt. "He knows what he's doing," he reassured her.

She didn't say a word but stood with her back to Scott.

"What happened, Cassie?" he finally whispered into the dark.

"Nothing," she spat.

"Okay."

She began pacing restlessly, anger building inside her.

"Scott," she said at last.

"Yeah?"

Her head was pounding, darkening her vision at the sides. Her fingers were shaking. "I need to punch something."

"What?" he asked surprised.

"I feel like I'm going to explode."

"You can't. You'll give away Murdock."

"I can't help it," she explained through gritted teeth.

In a frustrated attempt to calm down, she squatted and held her head in her hands. Scott laid a hand on her shoulder, and she snapped roughly at him, "Get off me!"

"Should I get you out of here?" he hissed.

She nodded without speaking, focusing on breathing.

"That won't be necessary," a cool voice said.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide with anger. The stranger was tall with raven black hair and a bemused expression on his face as he observed the two of them. Scott instantly vanished, and Cassie struggled to keep herself from screaming as she got to her feet.

"Who-who-?"

"Who am I?" he finished with a grin.

She didn't answer, and in the brief pause that followed, his smile fell slightly.

"I would've thought that you would know. Loki, of Asgard."

Her eyes shot to his, and she frantically took a step back.

"Here to help," he smiled, extending his hands.

She felt a pulsing behind her eyes, the pain so strong from holding back that it forced her to her knees. Loki approached her, but she could hardly move, and she watched as he knelt in front of her, lifting her face to see his.

"You resist," he smiled. "Why?"

"I-I-" she choked.

"To save your friends? Honorable."

His hand touched her forehead, and the coolness of his fingers sent a jolt through her, followed by the anger leaving her body. As it left, what remained was immeasurable sadness and the broken heart inside her. She collapsed in a heap, breathing heavily, and felt his cool fingertips on her neck.

"Get up."

She struggled to do as he asked, her eyes glaring at him. "What did you do?"

"I helped you," he smirked. "And you don't seem to be thankful."

"You're... You destroyed New York. I should kill you right now."

He only raised an eyebrow. "I suppose you don't want to hear what I have to say then."

At that moment, Scott reappeared behind Loki, and Matt came into view. But before either could land a blow, Loki vanished too. Her eyes grew wide, and she shook as she felt him reappear behind her, his icy hand on her upper arm. Both Scott and Matt stopped.

"I have been informed that my brother is now involved with, or at least aware of, trouble in a place we have not visited in ages. One I wish not to concern myself with. One that will only bring chaos. And he's involved because of one of you."

Cassie focused on even breathing, keeping her eyes fixed on Scott. His gaze told her to wait. Loki's hand fell from her arm, and he stepped to the left, his hand pressing against her neck. Unintentionally, she let out a small yelp.

"Oh...shy are we?" Loki grinned.

Finally, she snapped, spinning and raising her knee. But he anticipated this and had her on the ground in an instant. He gritted his teeth and stared at her.

"If you do not want my help, fine. But do not insult me."

"Speak," Matt commanded. "Two minutes."

Loki backed off, and Scott came to her side, helping her stand.

"There's not much more for me to currently reveal. Your...doctor is involved. I would like my brother to become uninvolved. And there is little way to make this happen without you."

"Why?" Cassie asked.

"My brother," he paused, glancing at her, "does not listen to me. Even when my words are wiser."

"And what would you need from us?"

"To retrieve your doctor and encourage his un-involvement."

"I don't know where Strange is," she said, a bit of malice in her voice as she spoke.

"That's where I can help."

Cassie glanced at Matt and Scott, but neither face gave any indication of what they thought. "All you want from us is to tell Stephen to come back? We can't. He's looking for someone."

"Yes," Loki sneered. "The girl."

Her eyes widened.

"It's too late for the girl," he nodded. "But not for your doctor."

Something caught in her throat, something that Cassie seemed unable to swallow. "Stephen's...okay though?"

Loki observed her cautiously. "Yes... He's your _boyfriend_ , as you Midgardians say?"

She choked and blushed furiously. "N-no..."

"She's dating a soldier," Scott laughed. His first words since Loki's arrival.

Her face fell, but she quickly sought to hide her emotions from the would-be assassin.

Loki noticed, his eyes catching hers. "What do you say then?"

"If...he's in danger...I want to help him."

Matt approached her side. "Come back tomorrow," he said to Loki.

She gazed at Matt uncertainly.

"I will take matters into my own hands soon," Loki grimaced.

Matt pulled on her arm, and she cast a lingering glance toward the prince. He smirked at her, and she frowned, following Matt and Scott.

"Were you able to-?"

"No," Matt cut her off. "They were alerted to our position and ran. But not before..."

Her eyes found the gash along his arm, the blood seeping through his black shirt. "We have to-"

"Wait," he shushed her, and they turned to look at Loki, but he'd already gone.

IIIIIIIIII

They had brought Matt back with them to the Avengers Complex. She'd tended to his arm as gently as she could as Scott explained to the others gathered-Peter, Wanda, Nat, Tony, and Steve-what had happened with Loki.

"If Strange is in trouble," Wanda said with her deep accent, "we have little choice."

Cassie silently agreed with her but said nothing, applying a bandage around Matt's bicep. He gazed at her with unseeing eyes but smiled gratefully.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she whispered.

"We can't trust this guy." Tony shook his head.

"We don't have a choice." Cassie stood. "I will not let Stephen die. He said it was too late for Janet...but hopefully it's not for Stephen. I will go by myself if necessary."

Her eyes scanned every face but Steve's.

"No," Wanda objected, rising. "I'll join you."

Peter stuck his hand up in the air sheepishly. "I'll help."

"No," Tony shut him down firmly. "You will not."

"But, Mr. Stark..." he whined like the teenager he was.

"We have no idea what this so-called god is up to. I will not have you involved."

Cassie smiled at the two.

"I guess I need to be there, for when this blows up in your face," Tony shrugged.

Peter tried to not let anyone see the disappointment in his eyes. That left Steve, Nat, and Scott. Natasha's face was impassive, but finally, Scott spoke.

"I'll help Strange."

Steve shook his head before speaking. "Seems dangerous, but Stephen is a friend. I'll help."

"I'll stay here," Nat said finally. "Deal with issues on the home front. I'll call in Sam, Clint, and Rhodey to help me."

Tony nodded approvingly.

"I told him to return tomorrow," Matt said softly, and Cassie nodded, feeling an unexplained cold creep through her veins at the thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Janet dropped onto the old, worn out couch with a weary sigh, allowing her recently removed helmet to fall from her grasp. It clunked onto the metal floor as she buried her face in her hands. Most of the effects of Lockdown's ultra-frequency emitter had subsided, but the nausea hadn't. Groaning miserably, she rubbed her temples, her eyes screwed shut.

The journey back to her apartment had been an interesting one. The world had been spinning, her ears had been ringing, and her legs had been stumbling along as if they had never walked before. But she had only vomited once, and she had decided to view that as an achievement.

Just beyond her locked door, Janet could hear the muffled whooshes and rumbles of air traffic and the booming music coming from the nightclub at the end of the street. Sometimes, this place didn't seem much different from Earth at all. But then she would pass by a human-sized bug or a bipedal alien with a shark head, and that fragile illusion would shatter. In those rare instances when she was honest with herself, she was forced to admit that Shadow City got awfully lonely sometimes. She had no friends here. There were only targets.

Sometimes—most times—there were bounties on those targets, and people in high places paid her a lot of credits to take them off the board. That was how she survived here, how she acquired enough food to get her through each day, how she traded for the parts that kept the utilities in this junk heap of an apartment functioning. Her life here certainly was not easy, but there were some advantages.

She was a stranger here, an outsider. Even amidst the bustling chaos of New York City, she could never truly fade into the background. Every other night, her face had been plastered on television screens, and every week, she had met with some of the most prominent public figures in the nation. But here—here she could hide in plain sight, in the middle of a crowd. Because here, no one knew her face. They only knew the mask she used to conceal her identity.

 _Dusk_. That was what they called her. Because when she appeared before her victims, she was not a person at all. She was an instrument of darkness. More than ever, she was inseparable from it. The voices in her head had only gotten louder, her violent impulses becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Stephen would be horrified if he found out just how far she had fallen.

A sharp, sudden pang stabbed through Janet's chest, her heart lurching painfully against her ribs. She tried not to think about him, always keeping herself focused on the next mission in an attempt to block out everything else. It was better this way. At least, that was what she told herself.

But sometimes—sometimes she would lie awake at night, convinced that she could hear him speaking to her. He was calling for her, searching for her. His voice was like a distant echo bouncing faintly off the walls. Janet often wondered if she was going mad, but every now and again, she would entertain the faceless specter with an answer.

"I'm here," she would whisper into the darkness. "Come and find me."

But he never did. No one did. And she knew that they couldn't. She faced the terrors that plagued her alone. Silver mists that swallowed her whole and trapped her in black cages. Norman's face twisting and contorting into that of a green-skinned monster with bulging yellow eyes. Jack aiming a gun at her back and pulling the trigger.

But the vision that came to her tonight was quite different.

Janet's eyes opened to a stunning night sky filled with trillions of twinkling stars. A blue aurora stretched across the vast expanse above her, merging with streaks of violet and rippling rays of seafoam green. She looked at it for a long while, awestruck by its beauty. This was a pleasant change, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaotic storm that was her spirit.

Slowly, she became aware of something cold and wet seeping into her back and soaking her hair. Crisp, frigid air stung her nostrils. Her bare fingers curled into damp softness that seemed as light as a feather. And yet, it was solid enough to support the weight of her body.

Janet's brow furrowed in confusion, and she sat up. All around her, there was an endless blanket of white. Barren trees huddled closely together as if to keep warm, their snow-covered limbs intertwining to form the edges of a massive clearing. Ahead lay a frozen lake, and just beyond it, a climbing ridge of rocks that led to a towering castle.

She recognized it instantly. But no—this was impossible. She was on another planet, lightyears away from Earth. How could she be here?

Janet's gaze drifted back down to the glass-like surface of the lake, where a sudden movement had drawn her attention. There, standing on the edge of the bank, was a tall figure with his back facing her, his knee-length robes caught up by an icy wind. Their snapping to and fro was what had first caught her eye, but now, as she recognized the shape of his silhouette and the nobility of his posture, her heart thundered inside her chest.

"Stephen?"

She had called his name before she could stop herself, and now she feared that he would not answer. But he turned immediately at the sound of her trembling voice. Janet stared at him, her throat becoming so tight that she could barely breathe. Something wasn't right. There was an ethereal, unearthly glow about him that unnerved her. He looked like…some sort of spirit.

"Janet?"

Were it not for the strange, empty echo that permeated this place, his quiet response would not have crossed the great distance between them. Instinctively, she took a step forward and then hesitated. This couldn't be real. He couldn't be.

But then he was coming toward her, moving lightly on the surface of the snow as if he weighed nothing at all. No footprints were left in his wake, his long strides scarcely making a sound. But Janet could hear his rapid breaths as he drew closer. He was on the verge of breaking into a run.

She took one more step, then another. Her feet felt like they had turned to lead, fear and uncertainty clamping around her ankles like chains. Was this all a dream? Did she even care if it was?

Stephen stopped less than a meter in front of her, his chest heaving. His shining eyes were wide and eager.

"You did it!" he panted.

"Did what?" Janet questioned, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"You made it to the Astral Plane," he explained excitedly.

"I don't—I don't understand," she stammered, her anxiety increasing with each passing moment. "I didn't do anything. I just—"

"Went to sleep?" he finished for her.

She stared at him for a long moment. "Is this your extremely poor way of telling me that I'm dead?"

Stephen shook his head. "No," he chuckled. "The Astral Plane is a place where the soul exists apart from the body. Sorcerers like myself can access it at will, but even those who are not trained in the Mystic Arts can reach its lower levels simply by dreaming."

Her heart sank. "So this…isn't real. You're not real."

"It is as real as anything you see and feel in your waking moments—as am I. You have transcended the boundaries of the Dream Dimension, Janet."

"W-what are you saying?" she asked again, even more perplexed than before.

"I couldn't find you," he responded gravely. "The magical traces you left were faint and distant, and I could never discern a location. You were too far away. But now, you have reached the upper planes, where time and space are irrelevant."

Her eyes widened, her lips parting. "The voice I heard…"

Stephen's features softened, and he ventured a step closer. "It was me."

Crystalline tears suddenly spilled down Janet's cheeks, carving strange, tingling tracks. "I thought that I was imagining things—that I was going insane. Why did you—?" Her voice broke, and she sucked in a shuddering breath. "Why did you never answer?"

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I was doing everything I could to contact you."

She sighed and shook her head. "I can't take this anymore, Stephen. This separation. This—this leaving and then coming back. I can't lose you again."

She half turned away, but he suddenly reached out and grabbed her hand. The surprisingly tangible sensation sent an electric jolt up her arm, and she looked back at him.

"Don't go," he pleaded softly.

Janet's resolve wavered. She wanted nothing more than to stay. Ever since she had fallen through the rift in the sky over Oscorp Tower, not a single day had gone by without her heart aching for his presence. But now that he was finally here, in a state that she knew was only temporary, she didn't know if she could bear the pain of watching him vanish before her eyes—not again.

And yet, what was left of her will to resist him was swiftly eroding. She stopped pulling away and instead allowed herself to be drawn back toward him. Gazing up into his shining eyes, Janet was tempted to get lost in them.

"I'm sorry," she confessed. "I'm sorry for everything. I never got to tell you."

Stephen's expression darkened, and his gaze lowered. "Why did you do it?"

"I didn't want to. I refused at first. But then I decided that between doing what Norman asked and blowing my cover—I had no choice."

"You always have a choice," he objected firmly, meeting her eyes again.

"Not always. But I regret the decision I made," she admitted sadly. "And in the end, it didn't even make a difference." Pausing, she swallowed hard and hung her head. "When I sent you away, it was because I was afraid. I felt so guilty that I couldn't even look you in the eye. I knew that after what I had done, you wouldn't want me anymore."

"You were wrong."

Stunned, she looked up at him. There were tears gleaming in his eyes.

"I was angry, and I was hurt. Sometimes, I still am. I don't understand it, and I probably never will. But, Janet—after everything we've been through?"

"Stephen, I can't even trust my own mind. My own feelings. And where I am now, it's only getting worse."

His face fell. "Where are you?"

"A place known as the Negative Zone," she replied. "The planet I'm on—it doesn't have a name. But there is civilization here. The locals call it Shadow City."

His brow furrowed, and it was clear that he did not recognize the name.

"Stephen," she said again, moving closer and grasping his hand tighter, "everything here is composed of anti-matter. The only reason I'm still alive is because of my powers. You can't come to this place. If you do, you'll die."

She knew well the stubborn spark that ignited in his eyes, and it worried her.

"I'll find a way," he said.

"It's impossible," Janet insisted.

He shook his head. "Nothing is impossible."

She opened her mouth to protest, but an uncomfortable tingling sensation that had begun in the tips of her fingers and toes was now spreading to the rest of her body. She promptly pressed her lips back together and withdrew her hand from Stephen's. Glancing down, Janet turned her palm right side up and stared at it as a sudden wave of nausea washed over her.

"Stephen, something's wrong. I think I—"

"You've been away from your body too long," he realized. "You have to go back."

"I don't want to," she croaked.

"Don't say things like that. Janet—Janet, look at me." He took her face in both hands as she choked back a sob. "I _will_ find you. I promise."

She never got a chance to respond. He and the rest of the world around them vanished in a blinding flash of white, and a sharp gasp tore through Janet's chest as she bolted upright. Several worn blankets tumbled off of her, and she found herself staring into infinite blackness. The nausea was still there, her head still spinning.

Gripping the thin cot beneath her with violently trembling fingers, Janet was struck by the painful realization that she was back in her apartment—back in Shadow City. And Stephen was gone.

She fell forward against her knees and buried her face in her hands as the tears began to fall. That was no dream—no vision. That was real. She had seen him, finally seen him. And he knew now just how sorry she was for everything that had happened. That was more than she could have hoped for, she supposed.

But that did nothing to ease the pain of having him torn from her grasp yet again—perhaps forever. It was just as she had feared, just as she had dreaded. And now, it was only her again. Just her.

Alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Cassie sat on a deck chair, knees pulled to her chest, a cold wind blowing over her, and stars ahead. Her thoughts were lost in a swirl of confusion and frustration. Stephen was in danger, Steve didn't want her, and she was still too scared to be near her parents for fear of truly hurting them. Loneliness spread through her. It was 3am, and she couldn't sleep-wouldn't sleep.

Cassie didn't know if she could ever willingly let herself sleep again after the last nightmare. It had been so tangibly real... She'd heard him...and her... _Shadow City_.

A sharp gasp ran through her as she felt a cool hand on her shoulder. She fell forward, jumping to her feet, her chest heaving as she stared at him-the boy. The one from last year, the one who'd helped her, who'd shocked her, who'd prodded her, who'd died for her. His eyes were hollow, and his skin was a sickly yellow color that made her want to shrink away.

"H-how? What...?"

"My death...should have been yours," he murmured.

She furrowed her brow in confusion, but then realization dawned. He was going to kill her.

Before she could turn, he pulled a knife and embedded it deep in her gut. Cassie screamed, falling to her knees. The specter was gone, leaving Cassie alone on the cold deck, writhing as she clutched her stomach.

Two hands.

"Cassie!"

Her eyes flew open, and she stared Tony Stark in the face. She was shivering-no- _shaking_ uncontrollably, sweat soaking through her clothes. She didn't say anything for a long moment-just stared at him.

"S-sorry..." she finally stuttered.

He helped her up and watched her warily. "I'm concerned for you."

The shaking that consumed her entire body hadn't stopped, but she shook her head. "I'm fine."

He wrapped an arm around her and led her inside, despite her statement. Past the main room and down a long hall, up a set of stairs and to his own room. Pepper often slept in the room next door since he stayed up so late working, so the room was empty. He took her into the bathroom, and she sat on the edge of the tub, trying to stop her frame from shaking.

He returned with a warm washcloth and handed it to her. She didn't meet his gaze as she cleaned the tears and sweat from her face.

"I'm fine...really, Tony."

"What's going on?" he asked firmly, pulling a chair beside the tub. Noticing that the shaking had not subsided, he sighed, standing to get her a blanket and wrapping her firmly inside it.

"It's just nightmares," she confessed, meeting his gaze as he stared pointedly at her.

"About?"

"Everything."

"Tell me."

"Well...tonight...I was in my bed, asleep, when...when-I don't know. I was nauseated and had a headache, but I couldn't seem to open my eyes or even really wake up."

His brow furrowed, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Then?"

"I...I heard Stephen. He was talking but I couldn't tell who he was talking to. I couldn't hear them. And then...it was like I could see what he saw and hear what he heard. And then it was all ripped away, and I woke up. There was nothing scary about it...but Tony, it felt so wrong. It felt unnatural. I-I hated it."

In the dark, with only a small bulb glowing and no one else awake, she felt some of her barriers falling away.

"Okay...but you said you were in your bed. That's not where I found you."

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep after that. I needed air. So I sat outside and must've fallen asleep."

"And what happened in that nightmare?"

She hesitated, and her body trembled. "He killed me," she whispered.

"Who did?" Tony pressed.

"The boy...from Oscorp. He...threw a knife, and-and-" She couldn't continue, so she buried her face in her hands. "Normally, I would just go to Oscorp, but after Steve-" She stopped herself and felt color rise into her face.

"After Steve what?" Tony asked cautiously.

"No. Never mind."

She heard him sigh.

"So you get these nightmares a lot?" he asked.

She nodded wordlessly. "Every night..."

"Come with me."

She gazed up at him, perplexed, but did so, following after him. He had obviously been working, which was why he'd heard her. He wore jeans and a red t-shirt that was splattered with something.

He stopped when they reached the room everyone normally convened in. "Sit" he said, pointing to a couch.

"Tony-"

"Listen. I'm gonna sleep in here too. Maybe if you have another person around, it'll help."

She didn't say anything but dragged the blanket with her as she crawled onto one of the plush couches. Tony chose another, and she curled into the frame, facing away from him. He said nothing more either.

IIIIIIIIII

Cassie woke the next morning to the annoying sound of laughter. She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head.

"Someone's grumpy," she heard Clint laugh.

"Princess didn't sleep well," she heard Tony taunt, but when she snapped up to look at him, she could see compassion behind the joke in his eyes.

Clint took a seat next to her and handed her a powdered donut. "Heard about the Asgardian nut last night."

She swallowed heavily but took the donut, staring at her hands.

"Get up, princess," Tony laughed. "We don't know when-"

Friday's voice filled the speakers. "Loki of-" she began before there was static crackling in their ears.

He walked in through the nearest hallway and smirked at them all. Cassie rose, blanket falling to the floor and Tony stepping into sight.

"Avengers...or...well, this is pathetic," he murmured, eyeing her, Tony, and Clint.

Cassie crossed her arms over her chest, uncertain what to say.

"A few of us have agreed to discuss details with you," Tony snapped. "But you were not invited here."

"Hmm, hospitality is not your strong suit. I am here to help, after all."

Cassie took a step back but felt Clint as she did so.

"We'll accept," she said, her eyes falling to Tony, who glared at her.

"Let me explain," Loki smiled charmingly. "There is a place-you will not have heard of it-"

"Shadow City," Cassie suddenly blurted out, unsure of where the impulse had come from.

Loki rounded on her immediately but said nothing. Tony turned as well, his eyes narrowing.

"You should wait," Cassie breathed uncertainly, "until we have everyone."

"Everyone?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Four more," she murmured.

Loki smiled and advanced toward her, and her heartbeat picked up. He said nothing, just staring at her. There was something so unnerving in the man's blue eyes, his dark hair swept back from his face and his cheekbones as sharp as knives. He flicked something from her shoulder and turned, eyeing Stark.

"Retrieve the others, please."

"Sure," Tony smiled. "Would you like a drink with that? I believe Banner could bring you one."

A shade of color dropped from Loki's face.

Suddenly, Cassie felt a hand on her back, and she turned with wide eyes to see Matt.

"Don't let him frighten you," he whispered. "He won't hurt you. You're the one he's seeking help from."

Cassie nodded, and her expression turned into something much more solemn. "He wanted help from all of us."

"He approached you."

Matt lingered by her side as Tony returned with Steve, Wanda, and Scott. She couldn't meet Steve's eyes, but she watched him enter. His blond hair fell over his forehead, a slight scruff on his face. His mere presence caused an ache in her chest. He spoke up first, as he always did.

"Why should we trust you?"

Loki smirked, clasping his hands together. "Would you rather put your doctor's life on the line? If he continues along the path he's on, he'll drag my brother with him, and there are things I'd rather have stay in Shadow City."

"Is that where we'd be going?" Steve asked.

"Not yet," he smirked. "But if the need arises, yes. I've sat by long enough... They're getting closer now."

"I don't understand what's needed of us," Steve pressed, and once again, she felt a pain in her gut as she looked at him. His eyes flicked to her but immediately returned to glance at Loki.

"I really only need one or two of you at most...currently."

"To do what? Don't play games here."

"To retrieve your doctor. Before he reaches Shadow City."

"Where is he exactly?"

"Asgard."

Cassie moved forward, almost against her will. "I'll go."

Tony stepped forward as well. "We'll discuss it privately," he said firmly to Loki, gesturing him toward the same balcony she'd been the night before. "If you don't mind."

Cassie waited until Loki was out of earshot. "I'm going. I've got to help Stephen."

"Perhaps Rogers and I should go," Tony said.

Her brows furrowed, and she realized-he thought she was weak after last night. Anger bubbled up inside her.

"No," she said firmly. "I know Stephen best. And I will go. Fight amongst yourselves over who joins me."

She stalked purposefully toward her room, slamming the door behind her.

IIIIIIIIII

Cassie waited, using the punching bag that Tony had installed in her room a year ago. It was a safer, easier way for her to release her anger. It was reinforced, as were her walls, against accidental explosions, and that meant that she could do what she needed to. Within ten minutes, there was a knock on her door, and Cassie quit punching, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"Come in!" she yelled, turning down her music and unwrapping her knuckles.

Tony stuck his head in. "Wanda's going with you."

Surprise filled her, and she wasn't sure what to say. "Oh...okay."

He nodded.

"Stark, wait."

He turned and smirked at her.

"I just wanted to say thanks. For last night."

His smirk faded, and he nodded sincerely. "Yeah. I understand. No problem. Now come on. The Asgardian's ready."

She grabbed her pistol from her bedside, stuck it into the waistband of her sweatpants, and followed Stark. She rarely wore protective suits-they were too confining-and she hardly carried weapons, as she herself was her greatest weapon.

IIIIIIIIII

Wanda smiled encouragingly at Cassie, but she let her face remain impassive as she watched Loki cautiously.

"Now, I myself will not be in Asgard. You will need to find your doctor and bring him back as soon as possible. I assume you're both acquainted with my brother as well."

She nodded, Wanda raising an eyebrow before doing the same.

"To Asgard then."


	7. Chapter 7

The war was quickly escalating. Soon, groups like the Slingers would be capable of assaulting Blastaar's base of operations, and it was then that Janet would take her opportunity to strike. She had no intention of heeding Lockdown's warning. He had only gotten the better of her because he had taken her by surprise. Next time, he would not be so fortunate.

While she waited for this rare chance to take down one of the most dangerous crime bosses in Shadow City, Janet decided to further appraise herself of the situation by spending an evening in Paradise—which was not nearly as pleasant or glamorous as it sounded.

Approaching the entrance of the nightclub, she glanced over at the Ataraxian bouncer and received an approving nod in response. So she skipped the long line of frustrated locals waiting outside and passed under the large, neon purple letters that spelled _"PARADISE."_ The moment she entered the crowded lounge, Janet collided with a wall of noise. Synthetic, upbeat music flooded her ears as obnoxious voices clamored to rise above it. Glasses clinked, lights flashed, and the sheer number of pulsing vibrations forced her to momentarily close her eyes and take a deep breath.

In loud, overpopulated places like this, she recoiled from her enhanced senses and suppressed them instead of amplifying them. Otherwise, the amount of information streaming into her consciousness became overwhelming.

Once she had gotten her bearings, Janet opened her eyes and walked to the bar, which was located at the center of the large room. A male Kestoran wearing a red jumpsuit stood behind the spotless, circular counter, passing out drinks to those who sat in his immediate vicinity. As soon as he spotted her, he waved a green three-fingered hand and grinned broadly.

"Clea! It's been some time. Welcome back!"

Dusk was the name her enemies knew her by. It was a mask, another persona she claimed when people needed saving and targets needed eliminating. But Clea—that was what she called herself when she just wanted to be no one for a little while. A face in a crowd—nothing more.

It was an ironic twist of fate, to be sure.

Her mother, being as excessive and elitist as she always was, had decided that it was a good idea to name her after the famous Cleopatra. _"Watch closely, dear,"_ she had always said, _"and listen. A carelessly whispered secret can bring about the fall of an empire. It is a deadly game, but if you play it well, you too can bring the world to its knees."_

Janet had always been a rebel, and though it had not taken her long to become as clever and manipulative as the rest of her family, "Clea" had not survived beyond her first few years of grade school. In truth, Janet was her middle name, but she had always told every person she met that it was the only one they were allowed to call her by.

Now, however, as she sank onto a metallic stool at the bar, she smiled back at the only individual in the entire city who might consider her a friend. "Hey, Tav."

"Was starting to wonder if something unfortunate had happened to you," he grunted, pouring her a drink and sliding it her way.

Janet caught the small glass between her fingers and canted her head. "The odds aren't in my favor, that's for sure. Not with the gang violence still escalating."

"And now we've got those vigilantes out there making things even more complicated," the Kestoran muttered. Grabbing another glass, he started cleaning it with a white cloth. "Don't get me wrong—we've always had heroic types like Lockdown around here. But guys like him have moral codes that they stick by—lines they don't cross. These new groups… I don't know if what they're doing is helping or just making the problem worse."

"Guess we'll find out," she remarked, swallowing a sip of the aquamarine liquid and wincing as it went down.

Almost imperceptibly, Tav inched closer to the counter, then leaned over it. She slowly lowered her glass and watched him with questioning eyes as his big green face drifted very near to her own.

"You see those women over there?" he whispered hoarsely, glancing to his right.

Discreetly following his gaze, Janet nodded. The two aliens stood nearby, conversing with a male human and his Argoran companion. Both women were tall, muscular, and wore black armored jumpsuits with jetpacks. One of them had pink skin, a long red ponytail, and a fearsome metal mask, while the other's skin was like copper. Dark, isolated coils grew from her mostly bald scalp, and she made no effort to conceal her true face.

"Yeah," Janet murmured.

"Rumor has it that they've been hired by Blastaar to find and dispose of Dusk. She's been interfering with some of his most profitable operations lately, and he wants her dead."

"Really?" she replied, maintaining an air of casual indifference.

"They call themselves the Twisted Sisters," Tav elaborated, "and I hear there are more of them. They've got quite the reputation."

"Yes, I've heard the name," she nodded. "Ruthless. Bloody. Don't take targets alive."

"That's right. Frankly, I don't enjoy having the likes of them here in Paradise, but I don't have much of a choice these days."

"Well, we can only hope that things will settle down again soon," Janet responded with a sad shake of her head.

"I'll drink to that," he agreed, pouring himself a glass of the same aquamarine liquid he had given her.

"To peace," she smiled, and they clinked their glasses.

The Kestoran threw back his head and drained his drink, but she took a silent, calculated sip, her eyes transforming into icy daggers as she directed another glance toward the would-be assassins. Her throat burned, but the sensation was a welcome one now. Her blood was boiling, and she was spoiling for a fight.

Anger and frustration had been steadily building inside her for two years. And now that she had come so close to having Stephen back, only to have him ripped away from her again, she was ready to unleash it. But this was neither the time nor the place for such a scene, Janet reminded herself as her trigger finger started to twitch.

So she took her time, making small talk with Tav and blankly staring at the surrounding screens until the Twisted Sisters finally decided to leave the nightclub. Then she waited another half hour before sliding her credits across the counter and informing the Kestoran that she was heading home for the evening.

The moment she exited Paradise, every muscle in Janet's body tensed, and she glanced around. Nothing. Taking a deep breath, she started walking back to her apartment. As air speeders rushed by above her, her long black coat flapped behind her and revealed the pistol that was holstered on her hip.

 _If Blastaar's sending assassins after me, he must be getting desperate,_ she thought with a smirk of satisfaction. _I must have struck a real blow, and that means he's weak and far more vulnerable that he wants anyone to know. Soon… Soon I will finish him._


	8. Chapter 8

Cassie blinked and adjusted her jacket. Her fingers were resting on her pistol, but she didn't pull it out. There was no need. Wanda stood by her side, but neither of them looked at each other. They were focused on the city before them, unsure where to start.

Cassie had a nervousness inside her gut that she couldn't explain. For some reason, she kept having spells of dizziness. They would take over, and she would stumble before Wanda would reach out a hand to stop her fall. They'd been in Asgard for three hours now, so Cassie associated the feeling with interdimensional travel.

"We had better go directly to the palace. I see no other options."

Cassie nodded at Wanda's words, and they walked slowly in the direction of the palace. It was late evening, and the sun had already fallen. Stars glittered above them, unlike any Cassie had ever seen.

All of a sudden, she felt herself falling forward, her vision blurry, and she crashed hard against the pavement. Pain rocketed through her skull and hip as she made contact, and the world seemed distant. It was as if a vision was taking hold, and she remained slightly conscious.

White. White everywhere. Indistinct voices with words she couldn't understand, and then...

Wanda, gently holding her shoulders. Cassie couldn't stop shaking as her vision returned.

"Ow..." was all she muttered.

Wanda sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "What's going on with you?" she asked softly.

"I-I don't know."

Cassie closed her eyes, lying on the cobbled street for a moment before the two women heard voices.

"Get out of the street," a voice barked.

Opening her eyes, Cassie saw a gruff, large man carrying two heavy bags on his shoulders and moving their way. Beside him followed a young girl, maybe thirteen, who was silent. Cassie struggled to stand, Wanda helping her to her feet. As the man neared, however, he stopped and looked them over.

"Something the matter?" he asked, looking at both of them, in their Earth clothes, up and down.

"I...fell is all," Cassie murmured, her hip hurting as she placed weight on her leg.

"Our place is around the corner," the girl said. "Come inside for a moment."

The man looked down at the girl, and some of the gruffness in his face disappeared. "Yes. In fact...I know you're not from here. Come. Share stories with an old man and his granddaughter."

Cassie looked at Wanda, who had her eyes trained on the pair. But she finally turned to Cassie and shrugged hesitantly. They followed the pair, Cassie with a slight limp and headache, around the corner and into a meager abode. The man set down his bags inside the door, and the girl led them toward a modest sitting room, complete with a warming fire. Wanda helped Cassie ease into a chair, where she immediately closed her eyes, her headache growing.

"How did you fall?" The girl's voice cut across the room.

"I don't know... I got dizzy."

She opened her eyes to stare at the girl, who was rummaging in a box across the room. The chair Cassie sat in was soft and cozy, and the dim light of the room made her eyes start to droop.

The man returned a moment later and sat on the hearth facing them. Wanda stood beside Cassie.

"Your names?" he huffed.

"Wanda."

"And Cassie."

"Excellent," he replied. "I'm Estran. And this is my granddaughter Ey."

Cassie nodded politely and closed her eyes almost unwillingly. She had discovered all too often that crashing your head against pavement will bring on quite the headache. Wanda placed a consoling hand on her shoulder, but Cassie was trying to keep the blurriness from her mind. She felt strange...as if something was happening to her. She'd felt this way after the accident... _The accident._ But this was still different. It was as if she were aware of someone else.

"How did you come to Asgard?" the elderly man asked.

The girl approached Cassie and held something out to her. It looked like an ice cube, and when Ey put it in her hand, Cassie realized it was exactly that.

"Hold it," Ey explained. "It will make you feel better."

Cassie did, and water melted into a puddle in her hand, a shiver running down her spine. Estran watched them curiously, still awaiting their answer.

"We have friends here," Wanda said quietly.

"I see. Your business is merely a visit then?"

"Yes," Cassie murmured, still watching the ice melt in her hand, its cold spreading like veins up her arm.

"Although," Wanda said hesitantly, "we aren't certain where to find our friend. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

The man nodded for her to go on.

"Stephen Strange," Cassie said calmly, meeting the man's eyes.

He sat watching her thoughtfully. "No, doesn't sound familiar."

Cassie felt a pang of disappointment run through her.

"If you don't know where you friend is," Estran said, "you are welcome to stay here for the night."

Ey smiled warmly at the two of them, and Cassie glanced up at Wanda. They shared a silent look understanding.

"No thank you," Wanda smiled. "We know where we are going."

As the last of the ice melted into her palm, Cassie noticed that her headache had receded immensely.

"I would like to speak with this one," Estran murmured quietly with a jab of his thumb toward Wanda.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise but shrugged, giving Cassie a bemused look.

"Come, we'll talk outside," Ey said softly.

Cassie knew that Wanda could easily hold her own against this man, so she stood and followed Ey out of a back door and into a room that she hadn't previously noticed. A cool breeze hit her in the face as she stared up at trillions of stars. A calming peace hit her like a wave, and she wanted to sink into the plush grass.

"Follow me," Ey smiled.

Cassie did so with a smile of her own and realized that she could hear a sound she hadn't heard in years-the ocean. Dark waves washed over a rocky shore, far below their bank. Ey started picking her way down, and Cassie hesitated for only a moment before following.

"I've lived here my whole life," Ey said, her voice carried away by the wind.

Cassie tilted her head to watch the girl's blonde hair float with each push of the breeze and stepped closer to the ocean.

"Odin was so good to us, to the kingdom... But things have changed. We rarely hear from the palace, and I don't even know who's running the kingdom anymore."

Cassie sank onto the wet grass, a little sand running down to the ocean, and it barely hit her toes. Suddenly, a sigh escaped her lips, and Cassie closed her eyes. Ey was standing in the water and smiling at Cassie.

"What...what-?"

"It's the ocean," the girl explained.

Relief had spread through her every vein. She felt renewed, reenergized, and fully awake. Her headache was gone, and she felt more like herself than she had since the accident.

"But-?"

"Don't question it," Ey murmured, stepping further into the water.

Cassie let her head fall back into the sand and closed her eyes, not realizing that she had already fallen asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The attack had begun. News of it was rapidly spreading through the dark streets of the Undercity, and Janet raced back to her apartment as soon as she heard the careless whispers of some frightened civilians. Taking off her trench coat, she pulled on her mask and threw up the hood that was attached to the back of her black jumpsuit. Then she holstered a second pistol and slid a dagger into a hidden sheathe inside her left boot, the compartments on her belt already filled with other small gadgets and weapons that might prove useful against the gang members.

When she was ready, Janet ran back outside and quickly scanned the rows of speeders that lined both sides of the street. One obviously drunk man was clumsily climbing into his vehicle, and she decided to seize this opportunity. Silently approaching him from behind, she seized him by the back of his jacket and dragged him out of the speeder.

"Hey—what are you—?"

He shouted slurred expletives at her as she dumped him onto the concrete and hopped into the open transport. Its engine was primed and thrumming, so Janet jammed her foot down on the acceleration pedal and sped into the air. Gripping the controls with both gloved hands, she swerved right and joined the loosely organized lanes of traffic rushing by. Higher and higher she went, rising from the depths of Shadow City and ascending to the upper levels, where sleek silver towers shimmered in the never-ending night.

 _I've traveled from one side of the universe to the other, but things are no different here than back on Earth,_ Janet thought bitterly. _And I was once one of them, living safely and ignorantly in my ivory tower above the very people I was trying to help. I thought I could change the system from the inside out. That I could use it to do good. But it's impossible._

 _They're all liars. They're all corrupt. They're all selfish._

 _And Blastaar? He's just a puppet. I don't know who's pulling his strings, but I'm going to find out. And when I do, there will be nowhere for them to hide._

No more than five minutes had passed when a grouping of three towers came into view. Two were completed, but the third was still under construction. Smoke was rising from the center structure, where the crime boss was located, and she knew then that the Slingers and their allies had successfully infiltrated the base. Now was the perfect moment to strike. With the majority of Blastaar's forces occupied, she could slip past them and make her way up to the penthouse.

But first, she needed to land, and Janet knew the perfect place.

The speeder soared higher, nearing the top of the third tower. Though it was smaller than the center spire, it had a landing platform that would provide her with both a point of infiltration and an escape route. In addition to that, it was likely empty for the remainder of the evening. No one would see her coming.

The transport slowed its pace to a crawl, then quietly set down on the circular docking area. The engine went silent, and Janet took a deep breath, preparing herself for the mission. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, one that wondered if Stephen would approve of what she was about to do. _Of course he wouldn't._ She sighed and shook her head. _But I have to do this. There's no other way._

Climbing out of the speeder, Janet crossed the platform, her gaze fixed on the central tower. It was time.

"Stop!"

She froze, every muscle becoming instantly rigid. The voice was female and was obviously altered by a voice modulator. She didn't recognize it.

"I cannot allow you to enter that tower."

Slowly, Janet turned and saw a shorter woman standing several meters behind her. Cloaked in purple, she wore a dark jumpsuit, a green breastplate, and a metal mask. At first glance, the stranger reminded her of the goblin-faced specter that often haunted her dreams. But Janet refused to let the phantoms of her past distract her from the present.

"Oh?" she called casually, crossing her arms over her chest. "And why is that?"

"I know who you are, Dusk," the woman answered. "I've been tracking your progress for some time now. You've left quite a trail of blood in your wake."

"Funny," Janet scoffed, "I've been hearing that a lot lately."

"You are proud of your… _exploits_ then?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Janet responded coldly. "The streets of the Undercity are safer because of me."

"Are they?" The stranger's voice remained calm and irksomely patient. "Chaos rules this city, and if you kill Blastaar, another will rise in his place."

"Is that a threat?"

"No," the woman replied with a shake of her head. "It's a fact. Let my partner and I take him into custody. Then we can interrogate him properly and find out who he's working for."

"Your partner?" Janet questioned, eyes narrowing behind her mask. "I don't even know who you are, and you expect me to believe you?"

"I am Rosetta Stone. Lockdown is my partner. I've been told that the two of you have already met."

Janet's insides twisted with anger. _Of course._ _So that's what this is about._

"Oh," she sneered. "I see. The self-proclaimed guardians of Shadow City have finally decided to make an appearance. Just in time to swoop in and claim credit for the victory that the rest of us have been fighting and dying to achieve."

"That's not true," Stone objected, her voice rising. So she did have emotions after all. "Just because you don't see us, just because we don't leave a trail of bodies everywhere we go, doesn't mean that we aren't working in shadows—that we aren't working for the good of the people in this city."

"I don't care much for words," Janet countered darkly. "Only results."

Stone sighed. "There's nothing I can do to change your mind then?"

Her heart hardened. "Blastaar dies tonight. I don't trust anyone, least of all _you_ , to prevent his escape from an inadequately guarded prison cell. Besides, he deserves far worse than to live out his days safely behind bars, with three square and a cot to lay his head. _No_ —he will _pay_ for his crimes."

"I understand your pain—and your resentment," Stone persisted. "But there are better ways to deliver justice."

"Not to me," Janet said with a finality that silenced the other vigilante. "Now stand aside."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

A tense, lengthy paused passed between them. Janet carefully examined her opponent, seeking to identify any and all weaknesses she might exploit. There was no need for her to kill Stone. She only needed to take her out of the fight.

Remembering the device Lockdown had used to paralyze her, Janet's gaze drifted down to Stone's belt. Yes—there it was. She needed to take that out first.

Suddenly, Stone's gloved fingers darted toward it, and Janet thrust out her right hand, intending to prevent her opponent's movement with her telekinetic powers. But she felt as if her mind had collided with an impenetrable wall. Stone activated the device, and Janet used her last remaining second to stifle her heightened senses as much as possible.

Then the scream came. The added distance between herself and her opponent gave Janet some small bit of relief. But her legs still turned to jelly, and taking one step was enough to make her fall flat on her face. Head pounding, she gasped for air and tried to teleport away from her advancing foe. But again, her will was rejected by an invisible force. _Psionic bafflers,_ Janet realized, her hands balling into fists.

Anger and frustration boiled inside her. The lights on the platform flickered, then went out entirely. Stone stopped and glanced around uncertainly. Janet's limbs spasmed as she fought to push herself up onto her hands and knees, but her mind was focusing, and she had learned to hone and sharpen her negative emotions into a deadly point. Her lungs burned, each inhale rasping and rattling inside her chest. But she embraced the pain, using it to fuel her.

A violet whip sprang from Janet's right hand and snaked around Stone's ankle, jerking her feet out from under her. Teeth gritted, she dragged the struggling vigilante toward her. Stone snatched a plasma pistol from her holster and fired two blasts, forcing Janet to release her grip. She ducked and rolled as Stone scrambled to her feet, then came up in a combat-ready stance. Her nerves were on fire, her muscles twitching.

She had to take Stone down before the screamer could reboot.

With newfound ferocity, Janet charged. Stone was caught off guard and quickly moved to catch Janet's punches, using her armored gloves to absorb the impact. But Janet shifted her aim and struck at Stone's vulnerable torso. Three sharp jabs followed in rapid succession, and Stone staggered. Janet drove her opponent to the ground and pinned her there.

Using umbrakinetic energy to put additional force behind each blow, she battered Stone's helmet again and again with her clenched fist. Searing pain flashed through her knuckles as she smashed the metal mask, but she refused to relent until her opponent finally became still. Breathing heavily, Janet lowered her aching fist. Though her gloves were reinforced to protect her hands, she knew that damage had been done, and she did not look forward to dealing with it later.

Standing on shaky legs, she stepped over her fallen foe and made her way back to the other side of the platform. To reach the central tower, she would have to fly across the gap and break through the nearest window. It was a task that would have proven far easier if her head wasn't pounding. Cursing the so-called protectors of Shadow City and their incessant interference, Janet steeled herself for the challenge ahead.

If she was going to make her move against Blastaar, it had to be now. Before it was too late.


	10. Chapter 10

Cassie squirmed as his hand grabbed her face, shoving it forward against the stone.

"Let go of me!" she cried, kicking out uselessly and grinding her teeth in frustration.

His other hand was pressed hard against her back. Suddenly, he yanked her around, and she could smell the rottenness of his breath. See the discoloration of his teeth. She shrank back and whimpered. Then she gasped, and Norman was gone. Her head was pounding, and she could hear a voice speaking.

"Janet?" it asked.

There was something cold seeping into her clothes, but Cassie couldn't move, couldn't turn her head, couldn't even feel her limbs.

"Janet?" it repeated again, and then everything began to fade.

IIIIIIIIII

Cassie's eyes snapped open, and she felt sweat rolling down her forehead. Ey and Wanda both stood over her, sharing concerned glances.

"Wh-what?" she stuttered in confusion.

"You slept, and screamed, and then began to convulse," Ey explained with a creased brow.

Wanda knelt and helped Cassie into a sitting position. Cassie felt no pain from her previous head injury, and she noticed that the water had soaked into her clothes. Beginning to shiver, she let Wanda help her to her feet.

"It's time to go," Wanda murmured.

Cassie nodded and took a moment to get steady on her feet. As her memories of the dreams became more clear in her mind, she knew she recognized the voice.

"Thank you, Ey, for your hospitality, and please give my thanks to Estran," she smiled.

Ey smiled as well, though warily. Wanda placed a helping hand on Cassie's arm, supporting her. They walked past the house and back onto the cobbled street, Cassie's clothes dripping.

"Wanda..." she murmured softly, eyes wide.

Wanda glanced sideways at Cassie and raised an eyebrow.

"I heard Stephen. In my head. It wasn't a dream. I'm sure of it now. He was calling for Janet."

Wanda's eyes grew wide, and she glanced behind them uncertainly. "Are you sure? Absolutely?"

"Positive." Cassie was shaking, cold and soaking.

Wanda didn't say anything for a long moment. They just kept walking.

As the silence grew, Cassie took a moment to look around. "Are we heading toward the palace?"

"Yes," Wanda whispered. Her eyes flitted about nervously.

"What's wrong?" Cassie was concerned by the look of fear in her friend's eyes.

"He wasn't who he said he was... There was something different about him," Wanda murmured. "And now you're talking about hearing Stephen's voice. And the only explanation I can think of is the Astral Plane. Which seems impossible if he wasn't calling to you, but to Janet."

Cassie's brow furrowed. She wasn't even sure which part of that sentence she should question first.

"Mindscape?" she pressed.

Wanda sighed heavily. "We'll talk about it in the palace. We need to see Thor before you pass out again."

Cassie's face flushed with shame.

IIIIIIIIII

The guards observed them warily, refusing to allow them entrance until permission had been granted. Cassie sat weakly on the floor, her previous strength gone, and she felt as though a brick wall had collapsed on top of her. Her eyes were heavy, and she struggled to keep them open. She watched curiously as a tall man moved toward them. He had a mess of blond curly hair and strong shoulders. His eyes were focused on her and Wanda, peering into their souls. Cassie felt as though she should turn and avert her gaze, but she couldn't bring herself to do so.

"My name is Valkie," he said suddenly, still a few paces away from them.

"I'm Wanda, and this is Cassie."

"Midgardian," he acknowledged, inclining his head and then turning to the guards. "If they are Midgardian, then there was a good reason to bring them in."

Cassie looked toward Wanda knowingly.

"Come." Valkie motioned them forward.

Cassie stood but felt her legs wobble as she went down hard against the cold stone, her body hitting the floor.

"My!" His eyes went wide, and he moved forward, extending his hand down to her.

Cassie felt the urge to bat his hand away, his eyes the same shade of blue as Steve's. A pang shot through her gut at the thought, but she fought to stifle it, slipping her hand into his. His other hand slid around her waist, helping her to her feet. The world spun around her, and she swayed slightly, his hands the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

"Let's make a quick detour to the healers' ward first," he smiled.

"No." Cassie shook her head. "We need to see Thor."

Valkie smiled at her as a parent would a child who had amused him. "I don't think Thor is available at present."

"It's absolutely necessary," Wanda insisted, and his gaze grew serious.

"I will inform him that you are here, and he can make that decision."

Cassie's legs trembled beneath her as they walked. There were shadows creeping around her vision.

"Cassie, can you-?" Wanda started.

"I'm fine."

She pulled herself from Valkie's helping hand and swayed for a moment. "I don't need medical attention. I need to see Thor Odinson. Now."

IIIIIIIIII

They were standing in a grand hallway, Valkie facing them and guards passing by. He swallowed and surveyed them for a moment.

"Wait here." He turned and snapped at a nearby guard, "Watch them."

Cassie turned to Wanda and smiled. Her legs were giving out, but she willed them to endure.

It was only a few minutes before they saw Thor walking swiftly in their direction, cape billowing behind him.

"My friends!" he gestured, spreading his arms wide.

As he approached, he seemed cheerful enough, but the closer he got, Cassie could see the worry in his eyes.

"Come! Let me feed you, and then we'll talk."

Valkie watched them go, mildly surprised.

"Thor, I think..." Cassie mumbled as they rounded a corner that opened into another long corridor.

Before she could finish, she collapsed in a heap on the floor. He turned in surprise and knelt beside her.

"Thor, I think she's being plagued by-"

"Not here," Thor interrupted.

Cassie pushed herself up onto her elbows and took a deep breath. He lifted her in his arms, and she didn't protest as he led them straight to his personal chambers. Once the door was shut, he helped her into a chair, and his face grew serious.

"Why are you here? Have you heard from Stephen?"

"No." Cassie shook her head, confusion in her gaze.

"Thor, we heard from your brother," Wanda explained.

Nothing changed in his face except for a slight crease in his brow.

"He said that Stephen was in trouble and that we needed to come get him," she continued. "He's here right?"

"No." Thor shook his head, but upon seeing the despair in their eyes, continued. "He was though. He left yesterday. I don't know where he went."

Cassie wasn't sure what to say.

"Was your brother telling the truth?" she finally murmured.

Thor hesitated. "Potentially. Stephen shared little with me."

Cassie was exhausted and wasn't sure where to go next.

"Will you help us?" Wanda asked.

Thor nodded. "Of course."


	11. Chapter 11

Darkness was her ally, and in this place, it was a constant that she could always rely upon. There was no sun to shine upon Shadow City, no light to blind her. Here she was at her most powerful, and there was nothing Blastaar's thugs could do to stop her.

As Janet strode through the tower's white corridors with deadly purpose, she left a trail of corpses in her wake. Blood stained the pristine floors, the walls, and her clothes. But it was for justice—all for justice. The guilty deserved to be punished, and the blade of the Blind Lady did not discern between the rich and the poor, those who had families and those who did not. And neither would she.

When Janet climbed a wide set of stairs at the end of the last hallway, she was met by two armed guards who she easily dispatched. Tossing aside one of their rifles, she turned to face the large pair of doors that stood in her way. Then she reached out and pressed a gloved hand against their metallic surfaces. They were heavily reinforced. Janet could sense the minimal amount of space that existed between their atoms.

Luckily, there was no need for her to waste time and effort breaking them down. Blastaar and his men knew that an enemy was coming, but their attention would be focused on the doors, and they would never see her coming.

Closing her eyes, Janet concentrated on the adjacent room. There were six lifeforms inside, their adrenaline pumping and their hearts pounding. And lights—she could feel electricity crackling near the ceiling. She inhaled deeply, her brow creasing as she darkened the room beyond and absorbed its energy. A sharp tingle shot through her, revitalizing her tired limbs, and Janet opened her eyes.

Then she smiled. Vanishing from the corridor, she merged with the shadows, walking willingly into their cold embrace. And it was like the doors had become as thin as the vapors of a cloud. Janet passed through them, ghostlike, and entered the last room.

A wide, horizontal window occupied much of the opposite wall, providing a vast view of Shadow City. Through it trickled traces of neon lights, casting blue and violet glows upon the fierce faces of three Baluurians and two human males. The sixth figure was larger than all of them, standing at least seven feet tall, and his massive form was completely silhouetted by the window behind him. _Blastaar,_ Janet realized, her eyes widening.

Once she made her first move, she knew that she would only have a couple of seconds before her invisibility would no longer be beneficial to her. It required a great deal of focus to maintain her current state, and she would need to redirect that energy toward enhancing her attacks. So Janet scanned the room one last time, considering which course of action would be most effective.

When she came to a decision, she immediately sprang into action. Sliding her dagger from its sheathe, she sprinted forward and sliced the throats of both human men before any of the thugs realized what was happening.

"It's Dusk!" Blastaar roared. "Kill her, you fools!"

And then chaos erupted around her. Janet became visible as she tucked into forward roll, narrowly avoiding a blast from a plasma rifle. When she came up, she spun and flung her dagger into the right shoulder of the nearest Baluurian. He howled and tore it from his flesh as Blastaar thrust out both gloved hands and fired two golden beams from his palms. Janet teleported out of their path, and they collided with the wall behind her, leaving behind smoking craters and the stench of burning metal.

She reappeared behind the other Baluurians and executed both of them with two swift shots from her pistol. Now only Blastaar and the wounded Baluurian remained. Enraged, their leader fired the beams at her again, and she dropped her gun. Reaching out, Janet caught them with her hands, but the impact was far more powerful than she had anticipated.

She cried out as pain rippled up her arms like a shockwave, and she tried to brace herself, the steady force of the discharges beginning to push her back. Her hands were violently trembling, her muscles straining to withstand Blastaar's relentless assault. It was too much energy to absorb at once, but she could still redirect it. Casting a sideways glance at the other Baluurian, who was currently aiming his weapon at her head, Janet gritted her teeth with stubborn determination.

Suddenly, she swung her arms to the right, altering the blasts' trajectories and sending them straight through the chest of the unprepared Baluurian. He was thrown backwards, his weapon clattering onto the floor, and he did not move again. Blastaar finally ended his ruthless barrage and turned to look at his fallen ally. Then his blazing eyes shifted back to Janet.

She swallowed, her muscles tensing with anticipation. And then he charged, a furious roar bellowing from his throat. Quickly, she extended a hand toward her pistol and summoned it back into her grasp.

But it did not come fast enough. Two burly palms collided with Janet's collar bone and sent her sprawling. Before she could recover, Blastaar's hulking form bent over and snatched her up. She struggled against his impossibly strong grip, but she was unable to prevent him from hoisting her over his hairy head and hurling her toward the nearest wall.

Something inside her cracked when her back struck its hard surface, and Janet hit the floor in a motionless heap. A frantic gulp of air rattled through her lungs, and it felt like someone had just plunged a dagger into her right side. She yelped, her fingers instinctively flying to the affected area as she struggled to get back up.

But then she heard a ferocious growl, and Janet flipped onto her back, her eyes wide with terror behind her mask. An armored fist flew toward her face, knocking her head against the floor as it struck again and again. Blastaar's blows crushed her helmet, causing it to dent and dig into her skin. A white light burst in her vision, then went black.

When Janet came to, it was just as the Baluurian picked her up and threw her again. Her limbs flailed uselessly in open air, and then she landed flat on her stomach. Searing pain stabbed through her ribs, and she choked and spluttered as she tasted a coppery substance on her tongue.

 _Oh God. Oh God, someone help me…_

But there was no one to help her—not anymore—and she knew it.

Janet crawled toward the window, desperate to get away from him. But Blastaar advanced again, and her feeble kicks did nothing to deter him as one of his brawny hands closed around her throat and lifted her up. She gasped and croaked, clawing at his gloved fingers and fighting to pry them loose.

"You've been a thorn in my side for far too long," he snarled, tightening his grip. "But now your pathetic attempts to destroy me and my operations here come to an end. You should have died long ago, but I underestimated you. Believe me, I won't make the same mistake again."

If she didn't act now, this was it. He was going to kill her. With the last bit of strength she could muster, Janet shoved her left palm against his forehead, and his feline eyes went wide. The world around them fell away. Darkness swallowed everything, and in that moment, she knew she had succeeded.

 _"You have failed me!"_

 _She knew that voice._

 _"No. No! I would never—"_

 _"Silence! Your people are little more than wild beasts, useful for only one thing. Now, you are of no further value to me."_

 _It couldn't be…_

 _But it was. A figure materialized and emerged from the void, black-haired and gray-eyed. His expression was twisted and murderous as Blastaar cowered before him like a slave before his master. Jack. Her brother._

 _She watched in horror as he summoned a glittering shard between his fingers, then used it to impale the Baluurian without so much as blinking._

Janet's consciousness returned to reality, and with that awareness came a resurgence of the pain that plagued every inch of her broken body. But Blastaar's chest was heaving, and he was so disturbed by what he had seen that he allowed her to fall from his grasp.

"How—how did you—?"

His hands moved to his heart as he staggered backwards, and it was clear that echoes of the pain he had experienced during his vision still lingered.

 _Bang!_

The Baluurian howled as his left kneecap exploded, and he dropped onto the one that remained. Janet's teeth were bared, her recovered pistol still aimed at her wounded foe. Breathing hard, she managed to rise, and she knew that sheer adrenaline was the only thing keeping her on her feet now.

"Make _one_ move," she growled, "and you join them."

Janet nodded at the nearby corpses, and Blastaar glared at her in silence. The gun was shaking in her left hand, so she attempted to steady it by gripping it with her right as well.

"Tell me what I just saw," she demanded hoarsely. "How do you know Jack Carlisle?"

The Baluurian's eyes widened with genuine surprise. "You know his name?"

"Stop!"

Startled by the sound of a new but familiar voice, Janet glanced up. She hadn't even heard the doors open, but now she saw Lockdown standing several meters behind her kneeling hostage. And that single moment of distraction proved disastrous.

There was a blinding flash of golden light. She felt as if a Hulk-sized fist had just punched her in the chest, and the impact launched her backwards. Glass shattered. Then she was falling, wind rushing in her ears.

Through the fractured remnants of her mask, Janet could see the exterior of the tower, its sharp spire rapidly receding. Panic seized her, but she was able to turn her body until she was gazing straight down at the air traffic some ten stories below her. Grimacing, she extended both arms and began to move her left in a counterclockwise motion. She was concentrating on a specific location, visualizing it in her mind's eye.

The sparks were weak and hesitant at first, but finally, a gateway formed. The circular portal opened directly beneath her, and Janet dove through it. The ground was speeding toward her now, and she had only a few seconds to slow her momentum. Umbrakinetic energy jetted from her outstretched fingertips, fighting gravity's pull, but there was not enough time to stop her descent entirely.

Just as Janet managed to bring herself out of her free fall and level out into downward glide, she clipped the side of a building, then lost control entirely and crashed into a dumpster. Moaning, she lay there for what seemed like forever, unable to summon the will to move. If it were not for her body armor, she knew that she would probably be dead. But even with its added protection, Janet felt like she had been hit by a truck.

Her ears were ringing, and when she opened her eyes, the world was spinning. Wincing, she reached out and grabbed the edge of the dumpster with both hands. Inch by inch, she dragged herself forward, the crackling and sliding of trash causing her to flinch. Everything was so _loud—_ so _bright_.

Unaware of how far she had actually crawled, Janet suddenly tumbled out of the dumpster and hit concrete. Something warm and wet was trickling down her face, mingling with the tears that began to leak from her eyes.

 _Stephen._

Her call was silent but desperate, a telepathic plea for aid.

 _Stephen…help me._

Her consciousness began to fade, her lids becoming impossibly heavy. _No._ She had to stay awake. Had to…

IIIIIIIIII

Janet dreamed that she saw a cloaked figure emerging from the darkness. He shone like a beacon amidst a void of death and despair—one that she had no hope of escaping until he came and lifted her out of the mire that threatened to drown her. In his arms, she felt safe, like everything was going to be all right. The fight was over. She could rest now.

IIIIIIIIII

Janet gasped as her eyes flew open. Her sharp intake of breath was instantly followed by a stab of pain in her ribs, and her fingers found that broad strips of fabric had been bound around her torso. She still wore her blood-smeared suit, but her armor and her mask had been removed. _By who?_ she wondered.

Her heart began to beat faster, and Janet blinked in confusion as she turned her attention to her surroundings. The room was dark and small, a dim lamp glowing on a table in the far corner, and she was lying on a low cot. _Wait a minute,_ she realized. _This is my room!_

Bolting upright, Janet immediately regretted her sudden movement. A small cry escaped her lips, and she clutched at her ribs again. Then, hearing approaching footsteps, she glanced up anxiously. As a tall, dark-haired man wearing blue robes rounded the corner, her she stared at him in shock.

"Stephen?"

Though his brow was creased with concern, he smiled when he saw that she was awake and quickly came to her side. Janet's eyes tracked his every movement, hardly believing what she was seeing.

"Are you—? Are you really here?" she asked as he knelt.

There was no unearthly glow around him, no hint of transparency. The light from the doorway illuminated one half of his face and cast the other into deep shadow. But both of his blue eyes shone in the semidarkness as he reached out and carefully took her hand in his own. Her knuckles were bruised and aching, but Janet noticed that the cuts had closed and were no longer bleeding.

Mesmerized, she watched as he lifted her hand and gently pressed her palm to his cheek. His skin was warm to the touch, and her breath caught. He was real. Flesh and blood. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"I thought this was just another dream," she said as his thumb massaged the backs of her trembling fingers. "How—how did you get here?"

"It's a long story," Stephen replied, his expression darkening slightly. He glanced down at her bandaged torso, then met her eyes again. "What happened, Janet? Who did this to you?"

She smirked even as her temples throbbed with a dull headache. "It's a long story."

He laughed. "All right, fair enough."

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had seen since she arrived in this dreadful place almost two years ago, and now she caught herself drinking in every detail of his face as her fingertips slowly traced the sharp line of his jaw. Stephen drifted closer, his smile fading. His expression of amusement had become one of affection, and Janet closed her eyes as he softly kissed her forehead.

A moment later, she felt his lips brush across one of the freshly healed cuts on her right cheek. Then his hand was resting against the side of her neck, and he was capturing her lips with his. Janet could almost hear the splashing of the East River as the tide came in, could almost smell the fresh greens and the salt in the breeze that blew from the Atlantic. There were traces of tea and spearmint, of leather and parchment. But more than all of that—he tasted like home.

When their lips parted, Stephen stayed close, and she felt his breaths quicken. Opening her eyes, she saw fear in his, and she wanted nothing more than to free him from it. Her furrowed brow asked a silent question, and he sighed.

"When I found you in that alley," Stephen confessed, "I was terrified. I thought you might be…"

He couldn't finish, and Janet swallowed.

"But you did. You did find me. And I assume that all of this—" she gestured at her partially healed injuries "—was your doing. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come, but you heard me. Didn't you?"

He nodded and met her gaze. "Yes. I was wandering the city aimlessly. I had no idea where to start, but then I heard your voice in my head. And suddenly, I knew where I needed to go."

"The alley—was it the one behind this building?"

"Yeah."

Janet shook her head in amazement. "How did you know to bring me here?"

Now it was his turn to look perplexed. "You pointed the way. You were out of it at the time, but you were able to tell me that this was your apartment."

"I did?" She looked down at the blankets bunched around her legs as she tried to concentrate.

"You don't remember?"

"No," she admitted reluctantly.

"Then your concussion is worse than I thought. You should get some rest, Janet. We can talk more tomorrow."

"Hmph," she smirked. "Always the doctor."

"Did you expect anything less from me?" he teased.

"All right," Janet began, putting on her best bargaining face, "maybe I'll be a good patient and take your advice… _if_ you agree to stay with me, _Doctor Strange_."

He raised his eyebrows, his lips parting in mock surprise. "What a scandalous suggestion, _Miss Carlisle_."

She laughed, then winced as pain knifed her ribs. "Oh… Don't make me laugh. It hurts too much."

"I'm sorry," Stephen said sincerely. "I did what I could to repair the fracture and stimulate the healing process, but it will still take time for the pain to stop."

"I know," she smiled. "Thank you—for everything."

He smiled back at her, and as Janet scooted over to make room for him, he stood and lifted the amulet from around his neck.

"What did you say that thing's called again?" she asked curiously. "The Eye of Avocado or something?"

He nearly doubled over as he deposited the object onto the corner table. "You mean the Eye of _Agamotto_?"

"Right. Yeah, that."

Now that Stephen had started laughing, he couldn't stop, and Janet rolled her eyes.

"Okay, it wasn't _that_ funny."

Still chuckling as he removed his boots, he shook his head. "You'd think that you would remember the name of the artifact that's saved your life. More than once, I might add."

She shrugged. "Yeah, well, my mind seems to be fuzzy on a lot of things right now."

As he came over and lay down beside her, she was suddenly struck by the fact that the last time this had happened was fifteen years ago. It felt like a different life now, one that someone else had lived. She had been so carefree, so naive.

"I know what you're thinking," Stephen said as he gazed at the dark ceiling.

"Do you?" she asked, head propped on her elbow.

He sighed. "You're thinking that you've made a terrible mistake. That you're crazy for letting me get this close to you again."

"Actually, that's not what I was thinking at all."

He looked at her, and she caught a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"The truth, Stephen, is that no one makes me feel safer than you do. There is no one I trust more than I trust you. And there is no place I would rather be than right here, with you."

It was a rare thing for Stephen Strange to be speechless, so Janet was quite proud of herself when she realized that he was too stunned to reply. Smiling, she slid down and rested her head against his chest. A moment later, he wrapped his arm around her and held her close.

As she drifted off to sleep, Janet refused to think of Blastaar, of Jack, or anything else she would inevitably have to face. Those trials would come soon enough. But right now, she thought, they deserved this. This brief moment of peace. The calm before the storm.


	12. Chapter 12

Cassie was shaking from lack of sleep, and she was angry. Furious. He'd told her that she should stay behind, that he would take Wanda and she could wait at the palace and rest. She'd be well taken care of, he'd said. As if she would wait. She needed to be there for Stephen.

Now Cassie sat on the tiny ship, crammed into the passenger seat and shaking. She was afraid to sleep, and so she sat on her hands to keep the tremors from them. Wanda was sleeping on the one bench the ship contained.

Thor glanced over at Cassie from the pilot's seat. "I did not mean to offend you."

A sigh left her lips, and she caught his eye. "It's fine."

Her thoughts were mostly preoccupied with Stephen. Loki's words bounced around in her head. What if he...? What if...?

Biting her lip, she looked away from Thor and out the window of the ship, which allowed her to gaze upon the beauty of the cosmos.

"We'll make sure he's all right," Thor told her.

Cassie didn't answer. There was no need. Outside that little window was a sight more beautiful than anything she'd ever seen. How could Wanda sleep through this? Stars and planets, hosts she could have never even dreamt of.

Her eyes drank it all in. She'd been normal once. Not the type of person who could fly through space. Normal parents, a dog, and a normal boyfriend. Not a super soldier.

But Steve wasn't her boyfriend anymore.

Her heart crashed against her chest, and she fought past her feelings, blinking furiously.

"We'll bring him home," Thor murmured.

For a moment, she thought he was talking about Steve, but that didn't make sense.

She wouldn't fall asleep. She wouldn't sleep... She wouldn't sleep... She wouldn't sleep...

IIIIIIIIII

 _She sat in Steve's arms a few days after Scott had rescued her, her head on his chest. His fingers wrapped around hers. They were just watching a movie. Something so simple._

 _But this had never happened._

 _Steve kissed her gently. "I'm not letting you go back. You're safe with me," he whispered._

 _Her dream shifted. She was staring at bodies. Mounds of bodies. Looking down at her hands, she found her fingernails crusted with blood. Their blood. Her victims' blood._

 _Once more, the dream shifted. She was seeing shadows. Nothing concrete. Only shadows. It was as though she were partially awake and yet still asleep. She couldn't hear anything, and her fingers were cold._

 _Then noise broke through the silence. She could hear her voice. Janet's voice. Calling for him. For Stephen._

IIIIIIIIII

Cassie moaned, pain pounding in her head as if something was trying to escape, to break through the bonds of her tiny human skull.

"Cassie?"

Thor's voice cut through her pain, and her eyes shot open. He reached over from his seat and squeezed her knee gently.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"I-I don't know, Thor."

She was scared. Cassie didn't know what was happening to her, but something felt wrong. The pain hadn't receded when her sleep did.

She curled up tight in the chair, bringing her feet under her and rested her head against the ship's side. _Pound, pound, pound._ A hammer to her skull. She winced and kept her eyes closed as long as she could.

Until Thor told her to buckle up and hold on. Opening her eyes hurt her head even though the hold was dark. Much darker than before.

Outside the window, there were no more planets, no more stars. Just darkness.

Wanda appeared behind her and strapped into another seat.

"Thor?"

Their speed had increased, and Cassie gripped the hand rests with white fingers. Where were they?

"I don't know where to set down. This is not a safe place to be. If this is where they are...well, then we are in trouble. Or they are."

Cassie's brow furrowed. She didn't care. If something happened to Stephen...

Thor landed the ship in an open area behind some buildings. She couldn't see much as they descended-everything was very dark.

When they set down, there was no grass. Only rocky dirt. As they disembarked, Cassie realized there was no light except that which was artificially made.

Her entire body ached and shook. Thor had forced her into some Asgardian armor aboard their ship, against her will. She didn't think she needed it. She was her own protection. But Wanda had donned some, so she followed her lead.

Cassie didn't desire to be an angry, bitter person. She just didn't seem to be able to let her past go. So she wore the armor.

Staring up at the tall buildings, Cassie suddenly felt overwhelmed. How would they find him? What sort of place was this? Smoke curled around them in whispers, and angry yelling could be heard frequently as they proceeded. Cassie felt a hand on their arm as they entered a congested section of the dark city. She was already hyped up on adrenaline, her heart pounding. So when she felt cool, slimy fingers, there was no hesitation. She sent a blast of energy into the chest of the stranger, sending him sprawling onto the street.

Cassie gave an involuntary cry of surprise and pressed her fist against her mouth. Blood oozed through an open wound on the man's forehead. If she could call him a man. He looked more like a beast.

Thor quickly grabbed her arm as people laughed around them. It seemed that they didn't even care. Some eyed her warily, others with menacing grins. There were catcalls and threats. Some woman said Cassie wouldn't last five minutes against her daughter. "A real woman," she laughed hysterically.

Wanda knelt next to the creature and assured Cassie that he was still alive.

Thor didn't remove his hand from her arm after that. And she didn't mind.

IIIIIIIIII

They knelt in an alley, discussing what they should do. Cassie had needed a break. She hadn't asked for it, but she knew that Thor had seen how tired she was. How she had swayed on her feet. He'd helped her sit, back to the brick, and they'd talked. Well, Thor and Wanda had talked.

She sat with her eyes closed, trying to lessen the throbbing of her head.

"Cassie?"

She opened her eyes and found both of them gazing at her with concern.

"If you are experiencing a vision of the Astral Plane, then you could help us find Stephen and Janet." Wanda's eyes were kind as she explained.

Thor added, "We can't stay here long. This place... It's unnatural and uninhabitable by people like us."

"I don't know what you want from me," Cassie argued. "I don't know what's happening to me."

"Try to talk to Stephen." Thor commanded loudly. He always spoke loudly.

She knew she had given him a strange look when he smiled reassuringly.

"You can. I think that's what's going on. You and Stephen share a connection. When he enters, so do you."

"I don't know why," Wanda interjected.

It dawned on Cassie like a wave crashing onto a beach. A wave of understanding.

"I do."

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. She wasn't sure what needed to happen, but she spoke his name in her head nonetheless.

Nothing happened. Maybe it would only work from his end?

She tried again. Nothing.

Opening her eyes, Cassie shrugged at her companions. Thor sighed.

"Maybe you need to be asleep?" Wanda asked hesitantly.

Cassie bit her lip and shook her head. "That's-that's silly. I can't sleep here."

Her heartbeat had quickened. She'd slept less than five minutes in the ship, but that hadn't stopped the nightmares.

Wanda smiled at her. "Of course you can."

"Come. Rest your head on my shoulder," Thor offered.

Cassie was shaking again and couldn't meet either of their eyes. Thor wrapped his arms around her gently, as one does with a stuffed animal, and she rested her head on his chest. Embarrassed, she stared at her shoes as Wanda knelt and placed a gentle hand on her forehead.

"I've only tried this once," Wanda admitted. "I can't guarantee it'll work."

But Cassie did nod off.

IIIIIIIIII

 _She was lying on her back, cold concrete beneath her and warm tears trickling down her face. A strange man she had never met knelt over her. He was yelling something at her, something she couldn't hear. She couldn't hear anything. The pop she'd heard before everything went stark crazy had burst her eardrums. Cassie was sure of it._

 _His hands shook her shoulders, and Cassie screamed, flailing and trying to crawl away from this madman. A madman who wore a cape and moved when no one else did. While the world was frozen around her, he was her only companion. A stranger. A savior. An enemy._

 _Cassie had never felt such panic in all her life, such fear._

 _She was dying. This was death. And this man? The devil. Heaven and hell were real, and this man was the devil._

 _But why did he look so human? So young? With sleek black hair and a panicked expression?_

 _He brushed her hair from her forehead and held her shoulders, not painfully but gently. His fingers wiped her tears away. She couldn't hear him, but she could see him and the compassion in his eyes._

 _Cassie knew she was dreaming. Dreaming a memory. She called Stephen's name. He kneeled over her but didn't answer. She called again, and a voice rang inside her head._

 _"Cassie?"_

 _Shock passed through her entire body._

 _"Stephen!"_

 _The figure who knelt over her, who held her neck in his hand, was not the one she was speaking with. That was the Stephen of the past. The Stephen in her dream._

 _No, she was talking with the Stephen of the present. As Janet had._

 _"Where are you?" His voice was distant and faded._

 _"Here," she answered. "Where are you?"_

 _"Cassie, you're near."_

 _The dream Stephen picked her up in his arms, and she did not resist._

IIIIIIIIII

Cassie awoke with a start, breathing heavily. Her eyes were wide, and she was drenched in sticky sweat. Wanda looked at her as though she were a corpse risen from its grave. Thor's grip was so tight on her arms that her fingers were numb.

She'd relived that day so many times in her mind. Hong Kong.

"We're near."


	13. Chapter 13

_Her breaths came hard and fast. She was running—running as fast as she could. So why did each step feel as slow and heavy as lead? Terror gripped her heart, and she cried out as something snatched her by the ankle and yanked her feet out from under her._

 _Now it was dragging her backwards, her fingers clawing at the ground. But no matter how much she struggled, there was nothing she could do to escape the grip of the monster that had hunted her down like helpless prey._

 _"No," she pleaded. "No, no, no…!"_

 _Managing to twist onto her back, she saw a pair of feline eyes glowing in the blackness. Blastaar's sharp teeth were bared, his ruthless, murderous gaze chilling her blood and paralyzing her straining limbs. He was going to break her bone by bone. She would know nothing but pain. Nothing but suffering. And the last moments of her life would be spent alone, in complete and utter agony.  
As he raised his fist, a scream tore from her throat.  
_

IIIIIIIIII

"Hey. Janet. _Janet_ , wake up!"

Her eyes flew open, and she found herself staring up into Stephen's face, barely visible in the darkness. Her heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest, and cold sweat beaded on her brow. Instead of Blastaar's large brutish ones, Janet realized that it was Stephen's hands gripping her shoulders.

"It's all right," he said gently, one hand moving to her cheek. "It was just a dream."

Inhaling a slow, shuddering breath, she looked at him hopelessly. "Is anything just a dream anymore?"

His brows knitted together, and he frowned. Afraid to close her eyes, she kept her gaze focused on his. There were no signs of grogginess, nothing in his manner or expression that told her she had startled him out of a deep sleep. How long had he been awake?

"Is it morning?" Janet asked.

Stephen glanced down and shook his head. "No."

"Then what is it?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. "It's Cassie. I think she's followed me here."

" _What?_ "  
She sat up—too fast—and grimaced as she clutched her ribs.

"Easy," he warned, instinctively reaching out to steady her.

She ignored him and tried to blink the blurriness from her eyes. "You told her where I was? Where you were going?"

"No," Stephen insisted. "I didn't tell anyone. Not about Shadow City. I only—"

"What?" she pressed.

"I didn't know what to do or how to get to you. The matter that makes up this place—its chemical composition is completely opposed to that of Earth's. It's like you said—just being here is potentially life-threatening. But making the transition… That's even more dangerous. I had to find a way to make it here without losing my life in the process. So I sought the counsel of those who might know of ways to provide the the kind of protection I needed."

Janet's brow creased in confusion. "If you didn't tell Cassie, _and_ you didn't tell anyone else about Shadow City, then how does she know?"

His gaze grew distant. "I think… I think she may have discovered a way to contact me telepathically. Just like you did."

"Then…you know where she is?"

"Yes," he nodded. "She's close, and she needs me. I could feel… She was in pain, Janet, and afraid. She might be in danger. I have to find her."

"I'll go with you," she said without hesitation.

"No," Stephen objected, his gaze sharpening. "You're in no condition to travel, let alone fight. I'll handle this."

"You don't know this city like I do."

"I'm a fast learner," he countered. "Stay here and rest—where it's safe."

She shook her head and sighed. "That's what you don't understand, Stephen. _Nowhere_ in this city is safe. Not even here."

"That's why I have to go. She might've come here alone, and I would never forgive myself if—" He stopped and took a breath.

Janet could see his fear, his uncertainty, his conflict. But more than that—she could _feel_ it, almost as intensely as if his emotions were her own.

"But I don't want to leave you," Stephen admitted. "Not if whoever did this to you is still out there."

The throbbing of her skull and the nagging pain in her ribs forced her to finally accept that she needed to sit this one out. But that didn't make her next words any easier to say.

"Go. Cassie needs you. I'll be fine."

His eyes were anxious as they gazed intently into her own. "Are you sure?"

"Go," Janet said again, trying to reassure him with a smile. "I've survived in this city for two years. I can do it a little longer."

His brow furrowed, and she sensed his hesitation. Her smile faltered. Had she said something wrong?

"All right," Stephen agreed at last. "I'll be back soon."

Leaning forward, he placed his hand on the back of her neck and gently pulled her in for a kiss. He let it linger for a moment, and Janet was equally reluctant to release him. They had only just reunited, and now she feared that they might be parted again.

When he finally drew back, Stephen smiled, silently promising her that he would return. Then he stood, pulled on his boots, and secured the Eye of Agamotto around his neck. As he stepped back into the main room, she saw him throw his scarlet cloak around his shoulders, and only then did she realize that it must have been hovering in the corner all this time.

Seconds later, Janet heard the door to her apartment slide open and then close again. He was gone. Gritting her teeth, she shifted and managed to get her legs under her. But they felt weak, unsteady, and pain stabbed at her ribs like tiny knives. The partially healed cuts on her face still stung, and when she ran her fingertips over her left cheek, it felt bruised and slightly swollen.

A hot mixture of terror and hatred boiled inside her as Janet thought of the monster who had done this to her. She'd had him on his knees, and she would have spilled his blood all over his perfectly white floors if that fool Lockdown hadn't ruined everything. This was the second time he had crossed her now, and she would not make the mistake of allowing him to interfere with her plans again. He needed to be dealt with, but that would have to wait.

Blastaar would die first—by her hand. He would pay for every single blow he had dealt her, and for every innocent life he had ever taken.

That was the vow Janet made as she struggled to her feet. Knowing that she would not be able to rest until Stephen returned, she made her way out of the bedroom—inch by inch. She moved her hand along the wall to maintain her balance, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Every step she took was agony, every breath a self-inflicted wound. If she could just make it to the couch…

With a stifled yelp, Janet dropped onto the old leather cushions. She managed to catch herself with one hand, grimacing as she propped herself upright. Slowly, her gaze drifted to the nearest lamp, which was on a table almost three meters away. She didn't have to strength to get up and physically turn it on, so instead, she closed her eyes and concentrated. There was a quiet click, and a dim yellow light chased away some of the blackness.

But it did nothing to drive out the shadows that invaded her mind and her heart. She hated them—the voices that haunted her. Because of the _Darkhold_ , Janet knew now that it was not madness that caused her to hear them. No—it was her link to the Dark Dimension. To the lost souls that lingered there. And not only that—she was connected to antimatter itself. To all things that existed "in-between."

She hated her powers, and yet, she couldn't imagine living without them. She didn't want to remember what that would be like, or how helpless she would feel. She was capable of taking matters into her own hands now. Even Norman Osborn had not been able to save himself from her wrath.

But what about Jack? He was still out there somewhere, with the _Darkhold_. And if there was any truth to the vision she had seen when she looked into Blastaar's mind, then he was planning something devastating. And somehow, he had made it as far as Shadow City. Like her, he was no longer bound to the confines of Earth, and that realization stirred something inside her. A fear so primal, so severe, that it was paralyzing.

Would she have to face her brother in battle once again? Would she be forced to kill him, like she had Norman?

Shutting her eyes tight, Janet tried not to think or to feel. It was too painful, too overwhelming. And it only made her headache worse. She needed peace. She needed quiet. But it was not to be found here—or anywhere. The voices never stopped. The call was never silenced.

There was a knock on the door. Janet's head jerked up from where she'd had it buried in her hands. Was it Stephen, or someone else?

"Who's there?" she called, making no attempt to conceal the threat in her voice.

"It's me."

She breathed a sigh of relief. _Stephen_.

The door was locked from the inside, but Janet opened it with her mind. She expected to see Stephen and Cassie enter, but what she did not foresee was two Avengers walking into her apartment. She recognized them from the hours of news footage that had been seared into her brain—Wanda Maximoff and Thor Odinson.

"Are you all right?" Stephen asked, immediately coming over and sitting down beside her. "I thought you would be resting."

"Not with you gone," she replied, still staring at the girl from Sokovia and her much larger Asgardian companion.

"You must be Janet," said Thor, stepping forward with a warm smile.

"That's right," she answered cautiously.

Maximoff maintained her silence, and Janet met her piercing gaze. She could feel new tension in the air, a shifting of energy as it was drawn to the girl like a magnet. She was powerful—very powerful.

"Don't be shy, Wanda," Thor chuckled, clapping a brawny hand onto her shoulder.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Janet," the younger woman said finally. "I've heard a lot about you."

Janet's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Maximoff's expression was unreadable, but her words betrayed her.

"Only good things, I hope," Janet smirked. _Don't worry,_ she added silently, _your suspicions are reciprocated in full._

Wanda blinked, and that simple, involuntary movement told Janet what she needed to know. She was dealing with a fellow telepath.

"It is good to see that Stephen has found you at last," Thor remarked, blissfully unaware of the exchange that had just occurred. "As soon as you are well enough to travel, we can leave this miserable place far behind us."

Janet's gaze darted to his. "What?"

"Let's hold off on that discussion until morning," Stephen interjected. "We're all a bit exhausted, and we'll be able to think more clearly once—"

"What is there to think about?"

Janet's heart clenched, her breath catching painfully inside her chest. She had avoided looking at Cassie since she had entered the room, but now she had no choice. When she saw the girl's tired, dark-rimmed eyes and pale skin, all of her desperately buried guilt rushed to the surface.

"Cassie," Stephen scolded, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Janet had dreamed of this day for so long, the day when she would be able to escape Shadow City. But now that it had finally come, she found that she was unwilling to do so. Because she had failed to kill Blastaar and had learned of Jack's possible involvement in his criminal enterprises, she could not leave. Not until the threat had been dealt with.

"Sorry," Cassie shrugged, rubbing her arm. "I just…thought she would be as ready to go home as the rest of us."

Thor cleared his throat and glanced uncertainly between them. "Of course we do uh…understand if Janet needs some time to prepare for her journey back to Earth. As you say, Stephen. We shall wait until morning to discuss our plans further."

Janet was on her feet before she could think better of it, and she swayed dangerously. Stephen rose quickly, one hand catching her arm and the other on her back.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "I just…want to go back to my room."

"Yeah, and I'll help you," he responded, refusing to be deterred.

Janet hated her weakness, hated having to depend on someone else for the most simple of movements. But she had no choice, and she knew it. As she limped from the room, she felt three pairs of eyes following her, and her muscles tensed. Why had two of the Avengers come with Cassie? Was it because she'd needed their help, or was it because they had come to take her back to Earth by force? To make her atone for her many crimes?

Whatever the true reason was—whatever their real intentions were—she intended to find out.


	14. Chapter 14

Cassie sat against the wall, exhaustion forcing her eyes shut against her will. Thor reclined on the couch, but Wanda stood near the door, on edge and cautious. Cassie waited, unsure how long it would be before Stephen returned.

IIIIIIIIII

"Cassie."

His hand shook her awake, and it took her several seconds to register the voice of Stephen Strange. Thor had fallen asleep, snoring loudly, and Wanda was fighting off sleep at her perch near the door. She seemed out of it, Cassie thought. Stephen though-he was wide awake. Did that man ever sleep?

She stared into his face for a moment before looking down at her shoes. When he'd come across them in the alleyway, the two of them hadn't said much. He'd led them to Janet's place, and then he'd accompanied her into the back room. Now though, Cassie had his attention.

"Why didn't you call? Why didn't you check in? Stephen, I was afraid. Afr-" Her voice choked, and she turned her head away, unable to finish.

"I'm fine," he whispered gently.

"Stephen, I'm not," she spat, still unwilling to meet his gaze. She could hear his heavy sigh as he sat beside her.

Cassie didn't pull away when he slipped his arm around her shoulders. Instead she leaned into it, resting her head on his chest.

"What's going on? How did you contact me?" he asked curiously, but she detected the caution in his voice.

She took a slow breath and turned her head into his red cloak. "I...I think it has to do with Hong Kong."

She felt him stiffen.

"Stephen, that was the worst day. The worst of my life..."

He tried to stop her. "I know."

"I-I have nightmares."

"Stop, Cassie."

"No!"

There were tears falling down her face, and she pulled away from Stephen, turning so that he wouldn't see them.

"I-I've never been more scared...but my life was changed that day. So was yours. And I think that whatever happened in that moment, whatever gave me my...my...whatever...also connected us."

She sniffed and wiped her eyes hastily. Stephen's hand came down on her shoulder, but she didn't move.

"How do you know?"

"I don't. But, Stephen...I keep hearing things. Your voice. Hers." She jabbed her thumb in the direction of Janet's room. "Passing out... It's been awful."

She turned to face him and could see the worry in his eyes. Gently, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her. She collapsed against his chest, sobbing quietly.

"It's going to be okay," he assured her. "I promise."

"You don't-you don't know that. I was afraid you were going to die, and then...then I had to see h-her."

Stephen tensed and said nothing for a long moment.

"I don't get it," she whispered, unable to understand why he would choose Janet after what she'd done.

"She's not who you think she is," was all he replied. "Listen, Cassie, we'll talk more tomorrow. Right now, I think you should get some sleep."

But Cassie couldn't sleep now. She pulled away from him and stood, exiting the apartment. She didn't go far-just stood right outside the door, suppressing the sobs that shook her. Stephen didn't wait long before following her.

"Why didn't you call?" she asked without turning.

"I-"

"Didn't you care? Or do you only care about...her."

"That's not true, and you know it," he said sternly.

She didn't care. Anger pulsed through her veins. Whipping around to face him, she glared up at him.

"How come when I called, you blew me off? How come your calls came rarely, if ever? How come when I would try to tell you something-" She stopped, feeling overwhelmed.

"I was just busy," he tried to explain, and she could see the guilt in his eyes.

"Stephen, I needed you," she spat, her tears gone and anger rising in its place. "Steve-he-well, he..."

Stephen took her by the arm and lowered his voice. "What happened, Cassie?"

She didn't say anything for a moment, seeing his concern, and then she smiled. "He just... He decided... Well, he broke up with me. It was my fault. I was stupid. I..." She turned, the feelings she'd tried to repress surfacing once more.

Stephen moved to face her and wrapped her in a hug that she didn't resist. "If he let you go, then he's the idiot."

"Stephen?"

"Hmm?"

"Why Janet?"

He pulled back and looked at her. "Cassie, I... I know it's complicated, but she's very important to me. I... I love her."

Color had risen into his cheeks, and Cassie smiled.

"We should... We should get some rest," he said, changing the subject and averting his eyes.

Stephen slipped his hand into hers and led her back into the apartment. He found an extra blanket and gave it to her, said goodnight, and went back into Janet's room. Cassie wrapped herself in the blanket, lay down on the floor, and was asleep almost instantaneously.


	15. Chapter 15

The night had been a long and a restless one, but Stephen had never left her side. Each time she had awoken from another nightmare, he had been there to assure her that she was safe, that no one was going to harm her. And eventually, the torturous night had ended. But the windowless apartment remained as dark and dimly lit as it always was.

Now, Janet stood alone in her room, having just emerged from the small storage space that she had managed to convert into a make-do washroom. Zipping up her freshly cleaned jumpsuit, she wondered how Stephen had been able to rid it of the bloodstains. But then she reminded herself not to question the limits of magic.  
 _I should get him to teach me that spell,_ Janet thought to herself just before she heard a knock on the bedroom door. Pressing a button on the adjacent access panel, she watched as the metallic door slid open.

"Hey," Stephen smiled tiredly. "Mind if I come in?"

"Be my guest," she shrugged, stepping aside and allowing him to enter.

As she turned to face him, he glanced at the access panel, and she took the hint. Closing the door, Janet took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. She had been able to keep his questions at bay for a night, but she had always known that he would demand answers sooner rather than later.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," she replied. And that was true, but she still felt like she had been run over by a truck.

"You should put some fresh bindings around your ribs," Stephen suggested. "They'll be bruised and fragile for—"

"I know," Janet interrupted, "and I will. But that's not why you wanted to talk to me, is it?"

He sighed and shook his head. "No. It isn't."

Her brow furrowed, dread building inside her. He seemed to be considering his next words carefully.

"Janet, last night you told me that you had survived in this city for two years," he began, meeting her uneasy gaze. "At first, I thought that it might have had something to do with your concussion. But you seemed so certain… I started to wonder if—"

"It _has_ been two years, Stephen," she insisted, taking a step toward him. "I counted. I've counted every single day since I fell through that rift."

He exhaled, and as his shoulders sank, she felt as if an invisible anchor were dragging her heart down into murky depths. She was experiencing the full weight of his guilt, and Janet wondered if he was even aware of it.

"How long has it been on Earth?" she dared to ask, her eyes anxiously searching his.

"A year," Stephen answered quietly. Swallowing hard, he moved closer. "Janet, I am so sorry. I had no idea…"

"How could you have known?" she shrugged again, smiling through the pain. "It's not your fault, Stephen."

"I lost you because you tried to save me," he said, his voice low and his eyes piercing hers. "I lost you _again_. And it was my fault _again_. I still blame myself for it, and now you tell me that it's been _two years_ …"

"I _did_ save you," she nodded, "and I made that choice. What happened afterwards was a result of my own lack of control. And yeah, I wish that I could've prevented it, but I would _never_ take back what I did to stop Jack."

Stephen's features hardened at the mention of her brother's name. "I haven't stopped searching for him either, and I never will—not until I find and retrieve the _Darkhold_ from him."

"Do you have any leads?" Janet inquired hesitantly.

He sighed and began to pace. "Reported sightings. Criminal activities on Earth and elsewhere that are rumored to be his doing. But I'm always two steps behind him. If I show up at a warehouse, it's abandoned. If I track down a witness, they've already been disposed of. It's maddening."

She bit her lip while his back was turned and stared down at the floor. So it was true—what she had seen when she looked into Blastaar's mind. Her own brother had turned into a criminal mastermind. A murderer. A _villain_.

"Stephen."

He turned and looked at her, his eyes softening. It was obvious that he had detected the tremble in her voice.

"There's something I need to tell you. It's about where I was last night—what I was doing," Janet began, considering which parts of the story she could leave out. "When I first arrived in Shadow City, I saw its crime-ridden streets, and I saw the plight of its people, who were being threatened and ruthlessly gunned down by gangsters. Only a few were trying to do anything about it, and their efforts were ineffective. So I decided to suit up. To use my powers to help people."

Stephen's lips parted in shock as he began to piece things together. She took a quick breath and plunged on.

"Last night, my target was a Baluurian named Blastaar. He's the most dangerous crime boss in Shadow City. Or…at least I thought he was. Anyway, things didn't go as smoothly as I'd hoped. Someone interfered, and I was forced to flee. But I saw something—a vision. I looked into Blastaar's mind, and I saw Jack. He's behind Blastaar's—"

"Wait. Stop," Stephen interrupted sternly. "What exactly did you go there to do, Janet?"

She stared at him in silence, her lips pressed tightly together. He took a step toward her, an angry fire sparking in his eyes.

"You went there to kill him, didn't you?"  
"There's only one way to deal with monsters like him," Janet answered, quietly but defiantly.

He turned away with a heavy sigh and ran his hand over his face in exasperation. "There's always another way."

"Blastaar deserves—"

"It's not about what he deserves," Stephen snapped, wheeling to face her. "It's about the fact that every time you take a life you take one step closer to becoming what you hate. There will always be criminals—people who prey upon the innocent. If you make it your mission to be judge, jury, and executioner, when will the killing stop, Janet?"

She swallowed hard and glanced away.

"I thought you were changing," he said, his disappointment piercing her heart like a knife.

"I am," she insisted. "I have!"

Stephen shook his head, making it painfully clear that she had failed to convince him.

"Whatever I do, it's never good enough for you!" Janet burst, her anger finally boiling over. "I left Norman—my brother—everything behind because of you! If I hadn't, we wouldn't even be here in this godforsaken place!"

"Janet—"

"What's wrong with getting my hands bloody if it means giving these people a better chance at survival? They need someone like me, someone who has the power to—"

"Not if saving them means destroying yourself!" he interrupted sharply. "Is this why you don't want to leave? Because you haven't satisfied your lust for revenge?"

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "I don't enjoy—"

"Are you sure? Because it looks like you're using their crimes as an excuse to justify—"

It happened before she could stop it. A raw scream tore from her throat, a wave of psionic energy rippling outward and flinging Stephen against the far wall. Her chest heaved, strands of dark hair falling over her eyes as she saw the door slide open. Wanda Maximoff stood there, scarlet sparks crackling between her fingers.

"Stop!" Stephen exclaimed breathlessly, managing to push himself upright. "Wanda, don't."

Fury and pity mingled in her gaze as Maximoff looked down at him. "Her heart is black, Stephen. You know it, and so do I."

Slowly, his eyes shifted to Janet's, and a profound ache filled her chest. Did he…? Did he really believe that?

 _BOOM!_

A fiery explosion engulfed them. Wanda screamed, and something hit Janet hard from behind. The stench of scorched metal stung her nostrils as she lay facedown on the floor, pinned beneath something she could not see. Smoke and dust clouded the air, choking her and blinding her to her surroundings.

"Stephen!" Janet cried, coughing.

She called his name again, but he didn't answer. Blinking her burning eyes, she began to claw her way forward. If she was going to save him, she had to free herself first.


	16. Chapter 16

Cassie couldn't remember what had happened. One moment she'd been huddled in the corner, nightmares keeping her awake, and the next, she was screaming. Overwhelming pain brought trembles to her body, and Cassie realized she'd been crushed beneath something. Her arm was pinned to her side, but she knew already that it was broken-smashed. Her lungs were finding it difficult to bring air into her body.

What had happened?

Voices. She heard voices. But Cassie was sure that these were not the voices of people she knew. She couldn't see anything beyond the blood that dripped over her eyes, seeping into her mouth.

Where was Stephen? What had happened to Thor and Wanda? Had Janet done this?

The voices grew louder, and Cassie allowed her body go limp, despite the pain that urged her to tense.

"If she's here, she's probably dead," one voice spoke. Gruff like a smoker's but monotonous, as though she didn't really care or was bored.

Her fingers were crunched under a boot, and Cassie had to mentally fight herself to keep from crying out.

"Hey," another voice spoke above her.

She felt the woman-or whatever she was-kneel beside her, and Cassie held her breath.

"She'd make a nice pet-if she lived." the woman laughed roughly.

"She's just a slab of meat now," the other argued. "And she's not the target. She's dead. Leave her."

The woman lingered for a second longer, then stood.

She heard their footsteps retreating, and Cassie began to worry for her friends. What if these women had found and killed them? With a grunt of pain, she tried to lift herself onto her elbow. The effort failed as her arm slipped in her own blood and snapped her head hard on the ground.

"She ain't dead!"

Cassie summoned whatever strength was left inside her and screamed, sending her remaining energy at the intruder. Wiping the blood from her eyes, she saw one of the two lying on the floor, moaning weakly, and the other advancing toward her. There was nothing left within her. She collapsed back and saw everything go black.

IIIIIIIIII

Cassie opened her eyes when the smell became too much to bear. Her gag reflex was involuntarily forcing her awake. She lay in a dark container, little light piercing in from above her. Cassie had no idea what she was trapped inside, but it surrounded her like a mud pit.

The next thing she realized was that she couldn't move. Not even if her life depended on it. Everything was spinning, despite the fact that she wasn't moving, and she knew that it was because of her lack of oxygen.

Cassie was sure that she was going to die. She could feel it in the depths of her being. Her time was coming-soon.

Somehow though, she wasn't worried. She couldn't seem to focus on anything except Steve's face. The way he laughed. The way he smiled. His hand wrapped around hers.

Cassie smiled into the darkness. She loved him. Desperately loved him. And if she was going to die, she would die knowing that he was the only one she could ever love.

She was fading, her lungs wheezing with every breath she took in.

A sudden burst of light blinded her eyes, and Cassie moaned weakly. Two hands under her arms, lifting her. She saw a man in a mask.

"Steve?" she croaked weakly, her voice barely a whisper.

This stranger carried her bridal style and began to walk briskly. His cloak was soft against her face, and Cassie nuzzled against it. He smelled delicious after her time amongst the rotting scents. Her hand gently rested on his chest, as if to hold her to reality as the world swam around her. When she tried to look up at him, she could've sworn his eyes glowed.

Suddenly, he dropped her onto the concrete, and she howled with pain. He knelt over her and spoke lowly in a metallic tone.

"Tell Dusk that if she doesn't stay out of things, Blastaar will send worse."

Cassie's world was fading. He stood and began to retreat into the shadows.

"Don't go," she whispered. He stopped but didn't turn. "I don't want to die alone."

He spoke softly, his voice barely audible. "You won't."

Then he was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

Her cry rose amidst the roaring flames, smothered by the inferno that had devoured her safe haven, her only protection from Shadow City's most savage hunters. As Janet finally managed to drag her other ankle out from under the smoldering debris, it gave a metallic groan and sank back into place. Tears streamed down her dirt-streaked face, her chest heaving with a miserable sob. _Keep going,_ she told herself. _Keep going._

Pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, Janet yelped and instinctively reached for her ribs. It felt as if someone had taken a thousand tiny needles and pricked her sides with them all at once. She shut her eyes and tried to breathe, but her lungs revolted against the smoke she inhaled, and a series of coughs wracked her body.

There was no point in trying to fight the pain. It wasn't going anywhere. So Janet did the only other thing that she knew to do.  
She let it in. She embraced it. She welcomed it like an old friend, and it turned the blood in her veins to ice. Voices whispered in her ears, blocking out the chaos around her and reminding her of the power the Dark Dimension had to offer.

Janet stood, and the smoke retreated from her. She could breathe again.

Ahead, she saw a pile of wreckage, a bloody hand emerging from it. She reached out, her own fingers stretching toward it as the charred metal was lifted up and away by an invisible force. Its removal revealed the still form of Stephen Strange, and terror seized her.

"Stephen!"

She dropped to her knees at his side, gripping the torn fabric of his robes as she shook him. Blood ran down his right temple, his eyes closed, and he remained unresponsive.

But he was alive—of that much she was certain. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and his heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears. Relief flooded through her as Janet moved behind him and shifted her hands beneath his arms. The explosion had almost certainly been a targeted one, so she needed to get him out of here—and fast.

Gritting her teeth, she started dragging him backwards. And with each step she took, Janet was forced to tap deeper into her connection with the realm beyond. She channeled her fear, her anger, her guilt—the negative emotions that fueled her supernatural strength.

Hoping that the thick columns of smoke ascending from the demolished structure would be enough to veil their escape, she hauled Stephen into the same alley where he had found her less than a day ago. Her lungs burned, her limbs ached, and Janet staggered as they rounded the corner. Managing to prop him up against the nearest wall, she sank to her knees and blinked in a futile attempt to stop the world from spinning.

Should she try to go back for Cassie, for Thor, for Wanda?

"Janet?"

Her eyes widened as she turned and saw that Stephen's lids had flickered open.

"What…what happened?"

"Someone rigged my apartment to…to explode," she explained, still out of breath. "And I have a good idea who that might be."

"Where's—" He stopped and coughed. "Where's Cassie?"

"I…" She shook her head and stared down at the concrete. "I don't know. I'll go back for her."

"Wait… Janet…"

But she had already risen into a crouched stance and crept to the wall's edge. Peering around the corner, she searched for any signs of movement—any evidence that someone was looking for survivors.

 _There!_

"Do you see anything?" Stephen called weakly.

"Yes," Janet hissed, her eyes narrowing. "Bounty hunters."

"I have to…have to help—"

"You're in no condition to fight," she interrupted, returning to him and pushing him back against the wall. "Neither of us are."

"I can't just leave her," he protested.

Pressing her lips together, she tried to think quickly. "I'm the target. I'm the one they want. Maybe I can distract them long enough to—"

"Janet," Stephen interjected, gazing past her with wide eyes.

Swiftly, she turned and saw a several figures emerging from the darkness behind her.

"Don't move!" one barked, his handgun aimed at her head.

All of them wore the same white armor, "POLICE" emblazoned in black letters across their chests.

"Dusk, you're under arrest. Do not attempt to resist, or we will be forced to take lethal action. And judging by the state of you and your friend there, I'd say that you'd be making a big mistake in doing so."

As she slowly raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, Janet counted their number and gauged her chances of a successful escape. "I'm afraid that _you're_ the one making a mistake, officer. I'm not Dusk."

"Put your hands behind your head— _now!_ " he ordered sharply.

Strange black spots danced across her vision, a wave of dizziness washing over her, and she fought to remain upright. There were too many—too many of them to risk it. Stephen's safety was far more valuable than her freedom.

She placed her hands behind her head, and she heard Stephen catch his breath.

"Janet…"

One of the other officers advanced and then stepped behind her. He shoved her face against the concrete, an involuntary cry escaping her as sharp pain pierced her ribs.

"Hey!" Stephen snapped. "She agreed to come quietly, and this is how you—?"

"Enough," the first officer warned. "Or I might decide to arrest you too."

"Stephen, it's okay," Janet managed as her hands were roughly cuffed behind her back.

The second officer hauled her to her feet, and she swayed dangerously. He tightened his iron grip on her arms, holding her steady. Resisting the urge to shrug him off, she twisted so that she could look into Stephen's eyes one last time before they dragged her away.

 _"This isn't goodbye."_

His voice rang clearly in her mind, and Janet responded with a silent answer.

 _"I know. I'll see you soon."_

IIIIIIIIII

"Well, this is another fine predicament you've gotten yourself into, my dear."

Where once she had seen only darkness, now she turned and saw a woman in a red dress.

"What are you doing here?" Janet inquired bitterly. "You can't be. I know you're not."

"I warned you, you know," the woman continued, refusing to acknowledge the question. "About your recklessness. About how you always allowed your heart to rule your head."

"I didn't ask to hear another one of your lectures."

"And yet, here I am," the woman replied, spreading her arms wide. "This is nothing new. You haven't changed at all."

"You don't know me," Janet growled. "You never did."

"As I recall, you always rejected every single piece of advice I ever gave you—until you got yourself into trouble of course. Then you would come crying to me, expecting me to rescue you from your own foolishness."

Anger burned inside her as Janet advanced toward the scarlet figure that was her mother. "What you gave me wasn't _advice_. You never gave me a choice. You never cared about what _I_ wanted. You wanted me to be _you_."

"What's the harm in that?" her mother shrugged. "Is it the gilded roof that you hate? The wealthy husband? Having the best of everything that money can buy?"

"Where you see a gilded roof, I see a gilded cage. You were a prisoner, just like me. Just like Jack. Even Dad was a prisoner in his own house."

Her mother's dark eyes flashed dangerously, but Janet plunged on.

"Norman told me what he did to him, after we fell through that rift. He told me everything. Dad was never the villain everyone thought he was. Norman was behind it all from the beginning. _He_ was embezzling the money. _He's_ the one who destroyed our family. And do you know what?" She paused, savoring her next words. "I killed him for it."

A harsh slap echoed in the void, but Janet hardly flinched. One of her mother's sharp nails had drawn blood, but she didn't bother to wipe it away.

"Foolish girl! Norman gave you everything! Your education. Your career. Even your powers."

"Norman betrayed me," Janet countered. "Just like he betrayed you, I suspect. Did he tell you that he would leave Emily for you? Is that why you helped him frame my father?"

Her mother's red lips curled into a snarl, but she said nothing. Janet realized then that she had struck a nerve—that she was right.

"You told me that love is weakness, and now I know why. Because you loved Norman, but he never loved you. That's why you abandoned us. We only wanted a mother, but you had no time for us because of—because of that _monster!_ "

She was shaking now, her hands balled into fists at her sides and a lump burning inside her throat. Tears gleamed in her mother's black eyes as she stepped forward.

"Look in the mirror, Clea. Look at the blood staining your own hands. If he's a monster, then so are you. You claim that you kill in the name of justice, but there's a part of you that _enjoys_ it. Do you really think that a man such as Stephen Strange could ever love you? Could ever love a monster?"

"You did," Janet answered simply, a tear sliding down her bloody cheek.

"I did," her mother admitted as she faded away like a ghost, "and it destroyed me."

Abandoned in the darkness, Janet turned and found herself facing a wall of glass. And all she saw was a sad, lonely woman staring back at her.


	18. Chapter 18

Her eyes flickered open into darkness. Terrifying darkness that engulfed her-made her wonder if she was dead. She was dead...right? Somehow, she wasn't sure. The pain was enough to tell her that she wasn't.

"Shh," a voice whispered to her right, and Cassie stiffened, eyes wide. "It's me," the same voice continued.

"Wanda."

She wasn't sure. Everything was wrong. What had happened? Where was she? Where was Stephen?

"Prove it," she hissed, coughing through the words.

Red sparks sizzled through the darkness, and Cassie shivered against the magic. "Where are we?"

"Janet's," she whispered hoarsely. "I-I found you, and...well, here we are."

"Thor? Stephen? Janet?"

"Don't know."

Cassie tried to sit and fell limply back with a whimpering cry of pain. Her head throbbed, and she could feel her heartbeat behind her eyes.

"Don't move."

"Wanda? I thought I was going to-"

"I did as much as I could, and you'll live."

"I have to find Stephen," she cried weakly, trying again to get to her feet.

As soon as she was upright, she crashed down hard onto her hands and knees with a screech of pain.

"I told you not to move."

Cassie could still see very little, but her eyes were adjusting to the dim light. The remains of Janet's apartment around them were covered in blood. Lots of blood. Cassie whimpered and fought back the bile rising in her throat.

A crash to their left snapped both of their heads toward the sound.

"Where is it?"

She heard a faint whisper through the stillness. Her breath caught in her throat, fear bubbling to the surface. Cassie lowered herself flat to the ground and watched through slits.

Another crash-closer. It was the sound of charred remains of wood against the floor. She inched forward as easily as she could and saw him lying there.

"Stephen," she hissed.

"Cassie!"

He was up on his feet, swaying and making his way toward her. He enveloped her in his arms, and she groaned in pain, though grateful to see him. Blonde strands of hair fell over her eyes as she buried her head against Stephen, holding tightly to him. He kissed the side of her head and pulled back to look at her.

"Come on. Come on, we've gotta go. We've gotta go now."

He slipped a hand under her arm, attempting to pull her to her feet. Sweat beaded on his brow, blood soaking through his shirt.

"Don't-!" Wanda cried too late.

Cassie howled and dropped, screeching through the pain that spread like a fire over her body. She collapsed against his feet, struggling to breathe. Stephen said nothing. He knelt and placed his hand against her trembling fingers.

"C-can't..." she stuttered.

"Can't stay here," he whispered, cradling her in his arms and lifting her as gently as he could. "Besides, I've already searched it."

Cassie shoved her fist into her mouth, biting down hard to keep from screaming. Wanda was able to crawl to her feet and helped Stephen as he swayed unsteadily.

"Where's Thor?"

Cassie just shook her head at Stephen's question. The night wrapped around them like a cloak, and Cassie breathed in as much fresh air as she could, gulping it down like a prisoner deprived of water. The sounds of the city did not seem to dull at night, and Cassie shivered, bracing herself for what would come next.

"Where's the man?" she murmured, eyes closed.

"What man?" Stephen asked, back against the brick wall in the alley outside Janet's apartment.

Wanda watched her curiously.

"The man... The man who-who pulled me from the dumpster."

Stephen shook his head and motioned to Wanda to peer around the corner. "Anything?" he whispered.

She pulled back sharply and slid a finger over her lips. In response, Stephen lowered Cassie to the ground, and she struggled into a sitting position, nodding at his questioning glance. _Go._

He joined Wanda, and they both remained in a silent, crouched position. Cassie waited, heartbeat loud in her ears, sweat rolling down her neck to the small of her back.

When they returned a moment later, both were ashen.

"Twisted Sisters," Stephen murmured softly.

Cassie raised an eyebrow inquisitorially, and then her eyes went wide, and rage boiled under her clenched fists and tight jaw. "Stephen," she hissed. "They...they-"

"One of them was half dead," Stephen continued as though she hadn't interrupted. "If not completely."

A ripple of mixed emotions sped through her mind, and Cassie gulped. "I did that..."

Both Stephen and Wanda turned toward her with raised brows and parted lips.

"What happened after that?" Wanda asked, her voice edged with curiosity.

"I-"

"Not now," Stephen hissed.

The sound of boots could be heard from around the corner, and the lock of the hammer of a pistol. Cuffs clicked into place, and then they watched from the veil of darkness as one woman was marched away and the other was slung over the back of a policeman.

"We have to follow," Stephen whispered, eyes trailing both of them.

Wanda said nothing for a moment, watching him intensely.

"Why?" Cassie didn't hesitate to ask.

"Cassie, I lost the Time Stone."

Both Wanda's face and her own went pale, and Cassie squeaked involuntarily.

"I know," he said. lowering his head. Stephen ran a hand through his hair, which was matted with soot and blood. "I searched the apartment-nothing. It's not there. And the Twisted Sisters-well, they were."

He sighed exasperatedly.

"You're not going to be able to get to them now," Cassie told him, gesturing toward the retreating backs of the bounty hunters.

"Then we'll find another way. I can't leave without it, and not without Janet."

"What now?" Wanda murmured, sliding down the brick wall and resting her head in her hands.

Stephen was swaying, and Cassie watched as he had to reach out a hand to steady himself.

"None of us can go far," Cassie murmured. "We need some place to rest, at least for a few moments."

Stephen didn't say anything. He'd closed his eyes. Cassie tried to stand, gritting her teeth against the pain that brought tears to her eyes. Stephen was visibly shaking, and Cassie slipped her hand into his.

"Come on," she whispered. "Wanda, let's go."

Wanda stood and followed the two of them as they left the dark alley and ventured into the street beyond. The clearing where the Twisted Sisters and the police had been was already full of people who were talking loudly, yelling, and cursing. They blended in easily, though Cassie had trouble even staying upright.

Surprisingly, she led the way. Right into a bar. No one even glanced their way as Cassie pulled free from Stephen and hurled in the corner. There was an angry shout from behind the counter, but nothing more came of it. She sank to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest amidst her grimace.

Stephen knelt, placing his hand on the side of her head. "It's going to be okay," he murmured, but she could feel the tremble of his fingers. "I'm going to get you some water."

She leaned her head against the wall and watched as he lurched toward the bar. The bartender lifted an eyebrow and glanced her way, then back as Wanda slid into a seat. They spoke for a long while before Stephen returned with a drink. Cassie lifted it to her lips but stopped, looking down at the liquid.

"We'll rest here for a while, Cass," Stephen murmured, pushing his hair back from his bloody forehead. "We don't have much choice."


	19. Chapter 19

Sometimes she sat curled in a corner, staring into the blackness that seemed to have swallowed her whole. Other times, she walked without end. This world was strange and unreal, much like a dream. Janet wondered if that was what had happened to her—that she had fallen into a deep sleep and become trapped in this other dimension.

But how? The last thing she remembered was boarding a transport that the officers said would take her to Bedlam Purgatorium, Shadow City's most highly secured prison. Had they sedated her? And if they had, why weren't the sedatives wearing off?

Was she truly unconscious? Was she imagining all of this? Or was it real?

Janet recalled what Stephen had told her about the Dimension of Dreams and how one could use it to ascend to the upper planes of the Spirit Realm. She had done it before when she had finally managed to contact him via her astral form. Had she done so again?

Wandering along a deserted sidewalk, Janet shivered as a chilling wind swept across the road and howled through the vacant windows of dead structures that towered all around her. Brown leaves rustled and crunched beneath her boots, a gray sky overhead. She had been walking for so long now, and yet, not a single living thing had stirred.

Something lying in the road nearby caught her eye, and Janet glanced to her right. What she saw caused her to abruptly stop in her tracks, her lips parting in dismay.

A dead crow sprawled on the pavement, its wings broken and its neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Its wide, glassy eyes stared into her soul, and she quickly turned away from it. Thoroughly unsettled, Janet increased her pace.

It was the first animal she had seen in this place, and it was utterly lifeless. What did that mean for any people she might find here?

"Janet!"

She froze. Stephen. That was Stephen's voice, and it sounded like he was in trouble.

"I'm coming!" she called, breaking into a run.

His cry had come from above, and that meant he was in one of these buildings.

"Where are you?"

"Here!" came his distressed reply, somewhere on her left.

Choosing a door, Janet hurried to it and tried to turn the knob. It was locked. Taking a step back, she returned with a vengeance and kicked it open. There was a loud crash as the lock shattered and the door slammed against the interior wall.

Advancing into the dark room, she instinctively shifted into a combative stance. But no one was there. Perplexed, Janet straightened and looked around. There were towering archways, a black marble floor, and vases filled with shriveling flowers. She recognized it immediately, and yet, it was as if a shadow had descended upon her childhood home.

Now, it was no more than an empty shell. A house—not a home.

"Janet! Help me! Please!"

Her eyes darted to the nearby staircase, and she bolted toward it. "I'm coming, Stephen!"

Gripping the black railing, she lunged up the stairs two at a time. Voices echoed through the halls, whispering of a time when her family had seemed whole. There was laughter and the nearly forgotten sound of her mother's fingers dancing over a piano's keys.

But nothing could steer Janet's focus away from the door at the far end of the corridor. She knew where it would take her, and she feared what lay beyond it. But Stephen needed her. She was prepared to fight, to do whatever it took to reach him. She was ready to break the lock, to kick the door in as she had before.

What Janet had not expected was for the door to swing open as she approached. Its old hinges creaked, and the ghosts fell silent. She hesitated, her heart thumping in her ears.

"Stephen?"

No answer came, and she swallowed as she took one step forward, then another. Venturing into the room, Janet dreaded what she might find. But when her anxious gaze dropped to the wooden floor, there was no broken body—no lifeless stare. Instead, she found a silhouetted figure standing near the window, his back facing her.

Her breath caught, a chill running down her spine. And as he turned to face her, Janet felt the blood drain from her face.

"You came," Jack smiled, his silver eyes glittering in the semidarkness. "I knew you would. Well, if Stephen Strange was involved of course."

"Where is he?" she demanded. "What have you done to him?"

Jack canted his head and looked at her like she was a silly child. "Relax. He isn't here. He never was."

Shaking her head, she took a step back and reminded herself that this was only a dream—an illusion. "Yeah, you're right. And neither are you. You're a ghost, just like she was."

"Who?" he inquired with genuine curiosity.

"Mom," she answered, meeting his piercing gaze.

He smirked. "She always was inside your head."

Janet felt the fire of her anger kindling, but she said nothing in reply. Instead, she warily watched as her brother took a step toward her.

"Imagine my surprise when I discovered that you had made it all the way to Shadow City. _My_ own sister is capable of ignoring the laws of time and space. And in a place where the rest of humanity is in a state of continual degradation, she thrives. Do you know what a _marvel_ you truly are, Janet?"

"Hmph," she grunted, unimpressed. "So you claim, but I'm not the only one from Earth to reach Shadow City. Tell me, Jack, how did you find this place?"

He smiled as he half turned and began to circle her. "You know what the _Darkhold_ is capable of. After having no more than a mere glimpse of the secrets it contains, your powers became exponentially stronger."

"The _Darkhold_ is dangerous, Jack," she warned. "It's too much for any one mind to handle."

"Is that what Stephen told you?"

She swallowed hard and didn't answer.

"Can't you see that he's trying to control you, Janet? He's threatened by your power. He wants to limit your potential, to contain you."

"Maybe I should be contained," she countered. "Norman got what he wanted. He turned me into a weapon. And now? Now I have a hunger that can't be satisfied. No matter how many I kill, I always crave more. There's something _very_ wrong with me, Jack, and I don't know if it can be fixed."

"You have to stop lying to yourself, Janet," he said, taking a step toward her. "You aren't Frankenstein's monster—a mindless product of a mad scientist's ambitions. Norman merely awakened the power that was already lying dormant inside you. And it is not something to be ashamed of, Janet. Your connection to the Dark Dimension—to antimatter itself—is invaluable. Imagine what we could accomplish if—"

"You left me for dead," she snarled. "There is no _we_ —not anymore."

"Might I remind you that it was _you_ who betrayed _us_? You were going to undo all of the grand work that was only just beginning. You were going to thwart—"

" _You abandoned me_ ," she interrupted sharply, emphasizing each word. "You broke your promise—the promise we _both_ made all those years ago. Norman was my target—not you. I was doing what was best for us."

He took a breath and shook his head. Then he looked at her again, his gaze steeled with conviction. "I have seen the future, Janet. The _Darkhold_ has shown me a world without war. You can help me bring peace, Janet—just like we always dreamed of doing."

"We took hostages, Jack. We tortured them. We experimented on them. I let the same thing happen to those people that Norman did to me, and I will never be free of that guilt. _Never._ What I did to Cassie—it was wrong. I told myself that I was doing it because I had no choice, but the truth is that part of me enjoyed it. The part of me that I hate. The part of me that I can't rid myself of."

"I am not Norman, Janet. This is not Oscorp. This is so much bigger than anything either of us could have ever imagined. The universe has given us the opportunity to do the impossible. We have abilities that other people can't understand, and that makes them fear us. But we can prove to them that there is no need to be afraid. We can protect them. We can give them hope and progress. The kind of change that is always promised but never delivered."

She stared at him, her heart pounding. He was making _sense_ , and that terrified her. She couldn't trust him—not after everything that had happened. And yet, he seemed to truly believe what he was saying.

"This isn't real," she whispered, taking a step back. "This isn't real. _You_ aren't… Whatever you are, just—just leave me alone!"

"When will you ever learn, Janet? Thoughts _shape_ reality. Dreams _are_ reality."

"No…" She turned her back on him and started to walk away.

"Janet, listen to me—"

"No!" she cried, whirling on him. "I've heard enough. Get out of my head."

"He will betray you, Janet. Just like he did bef—"

"Get _out!_ "

Her scream shook the walls and rippled through the floorboards like a shockwave. Jack looked up as the ceiling caved in, and Janet closed her eyes—untouched. Ghostly voices howled with pain, sorrow, rage—and it was like she was standing in the eye of a storm. The house groaned and creaked, its old fibers straining to hold together.

But she was too strong.

It collapsed in on itself, and as Janet tumbled into the void once again, her last conscious thoughts were of relief—of silence. He was gone.

Finally, he was gone.


	20. Chapter 20

Warbled voices masked by alcohol. The sound of ladies' disgust and the flick of cigarettes. Cold fingers sliding around glasses and greasy lips coated with red paint.

Cassie watched it all from a state of confusion, her brow furrowed and sweat rolling in tracks along her face. _Why is it so hot?_ she thought to herself. Her shirt front was covered in her own vomit, her jacket long since gone. The crusty blood beneath her fingernails was just a ghastly reminder of everything that had happened-would happen.

The blood. Always the blood. Would she ever rid herself of its sickly stain? Would her fingers ever be clean?

Since Bleecker Street, she'd been stained. She couldn't escape.

Now, as she stared at her own crusty fingers and felt another wave of nausea hit her, she curled into a ball and waited for the sickness to pass.

"Get up," a clunky voice murmured above her.

Wiping the corner of her mouth, Cassie pulled herself into a sitting position and stared at the stranger. He wasn't human-that alone she knew. Large, green, hairy, and extending his hand down to her.

"Get up," he repeated.

She had no strength to argue. Taking his hand, she jolted as he pulled her to her feet. Stephen approached her as quickly as he could and wrapped a protective arm around her.

"Come into the back with me," the stranger grunted, nodding his head at Wanda.

Stephen narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Why?"

"I own this place." His voice was gravely, sketchy. "And I don't need any more puke on the floor. People spill their drinks, get mad, start fights, and leave. Then I make less money."

She glanced around at the low-level patrons. There weren't that many.

"Listen, if you want to wash up, I have a small space."

Stephen motioned Wanda over and nodded. Cassie started to protest, but he squeezed her elbow, keeping her silent.

The stranger led them behind the bar and into a back area. Cassie's mouth dropped open. Soft yellow light fell over the delightful scene. A nice bed, made down with a quilt and a blanket greeted them first, followed by a rocking chair, a rug, and toys scattered on the floor. A woman stood near a fireplace, holding a tiny green infant in her arms. She tilted her head inquisitorially as they entered.

"Kal's the name."

The man shook Stephen's hand, then Wanda's, and then hers.

"I'm Gree," the woman spoke softly, her dark hair cut short above her ears.

Cassie felt her stomach roll, and she fought to keep it off the carpet.

"Bathroom's here," he grunted sternly, pointing to her immediate right, where another door greeted her.

Stephen supported her inside and lowered her beside a small bucket where her stomach turned inside out, dry heaving ensuing. When she finished, she clutched the small sink and pulled herself up. The bathroom was hardly a bathroom at all and was much more like a closet. There was a little sink, a larger tub against the far wall, and two buckets on the floor. The tile was stained a muddy brown, mold climbing the walls. She could see more blood stained in the grout and splattered occasionally on the walls.

The woman appeared in the doorway, Stephen and Wanda apparently speaking with their other host. "Here," she murmured softly, handing her a wet cloth.

Cassie accepted it gratefully and, without a mirror, did her best to clean her face.

"Your name?" the soft voice spoke again.

With a heavy swallow and silent debate, Cassie hesitated. "I-I-Cassie..."

Gree smiled kindly, and Cassie realized it was the first one she'd seen in this light-forsaken place.

"What happened to you?"

The cool wall was her support as she mentally assessed how much she should share. "Um, I said something stupid, and-"

"And a Kestoran did this to you? They're savages, and when they see a pretty girl like you..." Gree shook her head and stared down at her three-fingered hands, shaking slightly.

Cassie wondered how old she was. She seemed young.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Cassie shook her head gratefully and then paused, glancing down at her shirt front. "Well...if you...have something else clean I could-could wear maybe?"

The hostess nodded vigorously and sped off, leaving Cassie to sink weakly back to the floor. Stephen and Wanda approached, and she watched as Wanda knelt beside the bucket, emptying her insides as well.

The woman returned with a clean shirt for both her and Wanda. Cassie stripped her puke-stained shirt off and slipped into the man's extra large one. She didn't mind how big it was.

Stephen knelt beside her. "They're Kestorans. The big guy and his girlfriend. Her kid."

She nodded understandingly, and Wanda looked up long enough to show that she was listening.

"I think they're good people. Cassie...none of us can go any further tonight. Kal said we could stay. Wanda?"

Without looking up, Wanda gave him a thumbs up. Cassie let the words sink in.

"Stephen, we don't even know where Thor is-" Her voice cracked. "And-and I want to find them and go home. We need to keep going."

"Cassie, we cant," he reiterated in a whisper.

She bit her lip and stared out at the bed, the rug, the fireplace, and felt weariness sink into to her bones. She nodded.

Stephen left to say something to Kal, who had returned to the bar, and Cassie watched as Gree picked up the infant, holding it to her chest as only a mother could.

"Wanda," she whispered. "Bad vibes?"

Lifting her head, Wanda wiped her mouth with her sleeve and sat back against the wall. "No, actually. Though hard to read. They're not..."

"Human," Cassie finished.

Wanda closed her eyes and didn't open them again for several hours, exhausted beyond her capacity.

When Stephen returned, he and Cassie shared an amused smile before Stephen lifted Wanda and carefully carried her back into their host's main room. Cassie followed after them with her remaining strength. Gree was asleep in the bed, covers under her chin, babe tucked into a cradle beside the bed. Stephen laid Wanda on a quilt on the floor near the fireplace. Two more were laid out, and Cassie lowered herself as gingerly as she could without whining.

She sat there, staring at her blood-crusted hands, and said nothing. Lost in thoughts of fear, anger, and pain. The warmth of the fire couldn't seem to penetrate the cold that surrounded her like an unseen weight. Stephen laid his gentle hand on her shoulder, and she looked over as he sat beside her.

"How's the pain?"

She shrugged. "It's fine."

He raised an inquisitorial eyebrow and poked her arm.

"Fine," she laughed. "It's awful."

He grinned at her. "Mine too."

She laid back and stared at the fire. "Stephen?"

"Mhm?"

"I'm-I'm scared."

He didn't say anything for a moment, the only sound that of the crackling fire. Then he laid a hand on her head.

"That's okay," he whispered. "I am too. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be afraid. It's what you do with your fear that determines who you are."

Cassie let his words sink in, then rolled over to face him, biting back her grimace. "When'd you get so wise?"

"When I had to start taking care of your accident-prone butt." He smiled at her.

"I'm not the one who started the fire in the kitchen," she smirked.

"One time, Cassie. _One_ time," he grinned.

She laughed, and he lowered himself beside her.

"It's going to be okay," he reassured her.

"How do you know? What if we don't get back. What if we don't ever get to see-see anybody again."

"We will."

"I miss Steve," she blurted out. It was unexpected, even to her ears.

Stephen's face was impossible to read. "Cass, I can't pretend like I'm not furious with Steve Rogers for breaking your heart. But you love him. And that counts for something."

"If I could just talk to him," she sighed, feeling more downtrodden than she could explain. "Could I use the thing you and Janet did?"

"No, Cassie."

"But-but, Stephen-"

"No. He can't receive something like that."

She sighed and stared down at the quilt. "I know you're right. I just miss him."

A couple of moments passed before she said anything else, but when she looked up from the quilt, he was already asleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Janet gasped, her eyes opening to a world of white. She thought she was lying flat on her back, but she couldn't feel anything. Her limbs were numb and weightless, and something was hissing. What kind of nightmare had she fallen into this time?

"Janet? Can you hear me?"

She opened her mouth—tried to speak—but her throat was bone-dry.

"It's me—Stephen. I'm here to rescue you."

Was this another cruel dream? Another illusion meant to torture her with false hope? Janet blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Someone was leaning over her—someone wearing a scarlet cloak.

"Come on. Let's get you out of here."

A weak moan was all that emerged from her lips as the figure bent and easily lifted her. The white world turned black. Squinting in the darkness, Janet strained to better see the blurry face of the man carrying her.

"Stephen?" she croaked.

"Don't be afraid," he assured her. "I've got you. You're safe now."

That was his voice. His eyes that glanced down at her. Could this be real? Was she finally free?

Hearing a muffled crackling sound, Janet managed to slightly turn her heavy head. A green light sparkled and danced across her vision, and she stared at it, mesmerized. It was coming closer—or were they moving toward it?

A wave of cool energy splashed over her face, her stomach lurched, and she shut her eyes as a strange tingling sensation began in her fingers and toes. Groaning with discomfort, Janet squirmed.

"Where…?"

Dim, warm light. Towering columns. Stephen carefully laid her down on a black couch with a curved back, and she savored the fresh air drifting in through a nearby archway.

"Can I—?" her voice cracked, and she forced the next word from her parched throat. "Water?"

Moments later, a freshly filled glass was offered to her, and Janet sat up to receive it. But the room was spinning, and only then did she realize that both of her arms and legs were being tormented by a constant tingling. Raising her trembling right hand to reach for the glass, she quickly thought better of it and returned it to her lap.

"Here," Stephen suggested, kneeling and then lifting the water to her lips.

As the cool liquid soothed her sore throat, Janet noticed that her vision was slowly coming into focus. The room was as expansive in size as its appearance was expensive, and beyond the lofty archway was an incredible view of Shadow City.

"You are a guest of House Osiri now. Soon, your memories of imprisonment will be all but forgotten."

She nearly choked, her eyes going wide as she looked at him. "What? I-I can't—"

She succumbed to a fit of coughing and was unable to finish.  
"Relax," he assured her. "The people of this city know Dusk by her mask, not her face. This family is no exception."

"But…the officers. The guards at the prison…"

"They will search, but not publicly. No one has ever escaped Bedlam Purgatorium, and they want to keep it that way."

Janet's brow furrowed. "How…how do you know that?"

Stephen rose, and she watched him with increasing uncertainty. Something didn't feel right.

"Because I've been watching. Because I've been blending in while you and your friends have been busy demonstrating your complete lack of discretion."

She stared at him, her lips parting in dismay. She had no idea who this stranger was, but he was definitely not Stephen.

"Who are you?" Janet demanded as her heart began to pound.

The man pretending to be Stephen regarded her with a condescending smirk. A green light appeared at the crown of his head, rippling all the way down to his toes. And as it moved, his disguise peeled away like a snake shedding its skin. Pale, angular features framed by raven locks emerged, deep-set eyes glittering dangerously in the darkness.

"You…" she breathed. "I know you."

"Of course you do," he scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "That's what you all think. I'm the monster who destroyed New York—nothing more, and nothing less. You Midgardians have such a simple view of the universe—always have."

"If you're waiting for me to disagree with you, don't hold your breath," she responded flatly.

He raised an eyebrow. "A Midgardian without an over-inflated ego? Fascinating."

"Get to the point," Janet snapped. "Why did you free me?"

"Because your companions have failed to do what I instructed," the Asgardian answered, his voice hardening. "I told them to find Doctor Strange and take him back to Earth. I told them not to draw Thor deeper into this tangled web, and they have done _exactly_ the opposite. Because of you."

"What do you have to gain from them leaving?" she countered. "A more vulnerable Shadow City?"

"The fate of this wretched place is the least of my concerns. While they are here, it is Earth that is left unprotected."

Her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing. "What are you saying?"

"Return to Earth— _now_ ," he insisted. "Before it is too late."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a warning. Midgard needs more than their precious Captain and their Iron Man in order to withstand what is coming. As much as it pains me to say it—they _need_ Strange. They need the Scarlet Witch. And it is likely that they will need my brother as well."

"For what?" Janet asked, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. "What's coming?"

"I think you know."

If there had been any color left in her face, it was certainly gone now.

"Do not seek him out, Janet," Loki said solemnly. "If you do, Strange will follow, and countless lives will be lost."

"So you expect me to sit back and _wait_ for him to invade our home?" she demanded.

"If you want to win—yes."

She gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head. "I can't leave Shadow City—not yet. I have unfinished business here."

He blinked, appearing to be genuinely taken aback. "You continue to surprise me, Miss Carlisle. First, you refuse to defend the intelligence of humankind. Then you say that you have no interest in protecting your homeworld because you have a crime lord to kill."

"That's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant."

Janet rose swiftly, fighting to overcome the dizziness that assailed her. "No. The truth is that Blastaar has ties to my brother. If I can track him down and make him talk, I can find Jack. If I find Jack, I can stop this invasion before it ever begins."

"There are a lot of 'ifs' in your plan," Loki replied skeptically.

"Bad odds don't scare me. I've been working against them my entire life."

He said nothing for a long moment, considering her. She was breathing hard, the fire of her determination chasing the chill from her bones.  
Finally, he nodded. "All right. There might be a way for you to learn Blastaar's whereabouts. The Sinue family is throwing a party in three days, and all of the elite houses—including the Osiri—will be in attendance. There are whispers that House Amon is secretly supporting Blastaar's endeavors. I can get you in as a guest of House Osiri, and then you can make any personal inquiries you desire."

"That…sounds good," she admitted. "But what if someone recognizes me?"

Loki smirked. "Fortunately for you, it's a masquerade."  
"Well then," Janet answered with a devious smile of her own, "what are we waiting for?"


	22. Chapter 22

A clammy hand over her mouth, another pulling her up by her shirt front. Cassie thrashed, trying to scream against the taste of cigarettes that touched her tongue. She couldn't see a thing-a dark fabric had been pushed over her eyes. What was happening? What was going on? Who-?

Her teeth came together hard over skin, and she heard the sound of quiet cursing.

"She bit me."

"Shut up."

Something hard hit her in the head, and stars exploded before her eyes. Fabric was shoved hard into her mouth and tied behind her head. Falling limp, all Cassie could think about was ending the pain. The pain.

 _The pain._

The sound of a slight scuffle, of a door being shut. Cold wind hit her hard, and Cassie shivered, having been thrown over an unknown shoulder. They walked for ages, Cassie too dizzy to do a thing. The sounds of the street around them seemed to have no effect on the captors who had taken her.

Eventually, she was thrown off, hitting the concrete hard and tasting blood in her mouth, teeth clamped on her tongue. Her nose was gushing-she could feel it as it trailed down her face and onto her neck. The cover was pulled off her head, and Cassie stared up at grimy skin and the stained teeth that were grinning down at her.

"Did they get the other one?"

Suddenly, Kal knelt in front of her and tilted her head back. "She'll bring a nice price, yeah?"

Cassie gagged against the fabric in her mouth and jerked her head against his cool hand.

"Stop squirming."

He slapped her face-hard. With watering eyes, she stared at the concrete beneath her, fingers digging into the skin where they had bound her wrists. Someone else yanked her to her feet from behind, and Cassie felt his hands on the bare skin of her arms, causing a shiver to ripple down her spine.

"My money?" Kal gruffed, holding out his hand to the figure behind her.

Cassie was shoved to the side, and money exchanged hands. It took a second of concentration before she loosed a scream that was audible even through the gag and felt the ground tremble beneath her feet. A crack ran through the pavement to the man whose back was turned to her, and he crumpled to the ground, eyes rolling back in his head. She could see him clearly now. Human, perhaps? A buzz cut covering the scars on his head, blood crusted on his hairy arms.

Kal's mouth fell open, and he tilted his head as he stared at her. "Who-?"

She loosed another scream, and he shrieked, taking off. Cassie stood there shaking, head pounding and eyes blurred from the effort. Blood trickled down her wrists from where they were bound together.

"Hey."

The voice was low but soft. She recognized it but did not know where it was from.

"Turn around-calmly."

Hesitantly, she obeyed, staring at the man who had pulled her from the dumpster.

"I had plans to help you out of your situation, but it appears that you took care of it yourself."

Cassie could say nothing, staring at the masked man uncertainly. The wind trailed about her, whipping through her new T-shirt, blood staining its collar.

"Would you like help out of those?" He pointed to her arms.

Cassie made no move or indication that she'd even heard him. Her heart beat wildly, everything in her screaming for her to run. His sigh was audible as he moved toward her.

She trusted her instincts. With a kick up to his groin, she spun and took off as fast as she could with her arms tied behind her. Wind stung her eyes, causing tears to wet the blood on her face. She stumbled wildly forward, the dark, moonless sky providing no light to see by.

With a crashing move in front of her, the stranger landed on his feet and caught her with both hands, grabbing her around her midsection. Terror. Cold hands on her arms, forcing her to the ground. The taste of blood in her mouth. Choking back the vomit. Everything went black.

IIIIIIIIII

Eyes opening toward that sea-black sky rocketed Cassie back into reality. The stranger knelt over her, untying the gag from her mouth. She was coughing and unnerved, blood spattering the sides of her mouth. His hands were cold but gentle. Wiping the edge of her mouth with her free hand, Cassie could feel the trickle of blood that met her palm, still oozing from her nose. Silently, the stranger pulled a white cloth from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it without a word of thanks.

He stood, stretched as though the world was his and all the time within it, then strode forward into the dusty street. Cassie realized that there was no one around them, and her heart caught in her throat. Where was she?

Staring at the white cloth resting against her dark, dirty skin was the dose of reality she didn't want. Pressing it to her nose, Cassie let out a surprised whimper, pain shooting back through her skull. Broken. Stumbling to her feet, she turned in a slow circle and coughed more blood onto the once clean shirt. She saw dusty alleys devoid of the usual sounds of Shadow City. Dumpsters spilling with trash created the pungent smell that seemed to penetrate the blood that stopped her nose.

Staggering forward, Cassie pressed her hand against the nearest wall and clutched the cloth in her hand.

 _Stephen._

In her mind, Cassie tried to concentrate. Tried to bring back the connection. But all she heard in return was the resounding echo of her own thought.

What could have happened to them? To Wanda? To Stephen?

Had Kal gone back for Wanda? Had they hurt Stephen? Killed him?

Cassie knew that if she could escape these men, they easily could. But Kal would not take Wanda or Stephen so lightly. He would be better prepared, bring more men, more weapons...

Cassie was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she failed to see the approaching man. She collided with him and yelled in pain as her nose gushed brilliantly, and she fell backward into the dirt. The stranger knelt, but before Cassie could do anything, his dazzling blue eyes met hers.

"Steve?"


	23. Chapter 23

_"Look in the mirror, Clea. Look at the blood staining your own hands. If he's a monster, then so are you. Do you really think that a man such as Stephen Strange could ever love you? Could ever love a monster?"_

 _"If you make it your mission to be judge, jury, and executioner, when will the killing stop, Janet?"  
"Her heart is black, Stephen. You know it, and so do I." _

_"Is this why you don't want to leave? Because you haven't satisfied your lust for revenge?"_

Janet gazed miserably at her reflection as she stood in front of an ornately carved golden mirror, her black snakeskin gown glistening in the warm interior light. Every wave had been ironed from her dark hair by the Osiri family's maids. They had powdered her face, smeared her lips a deep crimson, and winged her eyeliner so dramatically that she was starting to resemble her namesake. It was a nightmare, but she was fully awake.

Or at least she believed she was. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to tell the difference between dreams and reality.

"The Osiri call this the Mask of Inpu," the elder of the two maids said, lifting the ebony mask from a nearby dresser and carefully placing it on Janet's face. "He is a lord of the underworld, a judge of the heart with the aspect of a jackal."

Now she understood why there were two silver-edged ears standing on either side of her head. The mask was heavy, but it was not a burden that she was unwilling to bear. To preserve the secrecy of her true identity, there was nothing that she would not do.

"Your escort is ready and waiting for you, madam," the younger maid informed her as she reentered the bedroom, and Janet nodded.

"Well, let's not keep him waiting."

She found Loki standing patiently near the door that joined the guest chambers to the rest of the Osiri penthouse. He wore a mask of green scales and an emerald cape, and he grinned when he saw her.

"Ah, there you are! Ready, darling?"

Janet managed not to roll her eyes and gave him a tight-lipped smile instead. "Yes, dear."

The younger maid giggled and excitedly clapped her hands together as they prepared to depart. "Have fun! And congratulations on your engagement!"

Slipping her arm through Loki's, Janet glanced back at the poor oblivious girl. "Oh, we will. I truly am the luckiest woman alive."

"You need to work on your enthusiasm if you want to be convincing," he muttered as they turned and walked away.

"What—too snarky?" she quipped with a satisfied smirk.

"If you intend to learn anything of value at this gathering—"

"Look," she interrupted, becoming serious once more, "this isn't my first rodeo. I'll play along when it matters. Let's just get this over with so we can go our separate ways."

"As you wish, Miss Carlisle."

IIIIIIIIII

She hadn't told Stephen where she was going. She hadn't even told him that she had escaped from prison. Guilt gnawed at her, but Janet kept telling herself that she was making the right decision. If he knew, he would interfere. He would try to stop her, and she couldn't allow that to happen.

As the Osiri family's private transport rushed past the glittering spires of the Upper City, she glanced down at the diamond on her finger—the one Loki had conjured to convince everyone of their engagement. The ruse had been entirely his idea, and Janet had gone along with it because she could think of nothing better. _"They will ask far fewer questions of a blushing bride-to-be,"_ he had said. _"It's all about manners, you see."_

She hated that she understood exactly what he meant.

But as the jewel sparkled and shone in the ever-changing light, a fleeting thought came to her—unbidden. Before she could crush it. Before she could silence it. _What would it be like, for the engagement to be real? What would it be like, to be married?_

And for an instant, Janet imagined a future, a dream, where she lived happily ever after in an ancient, magical townhouse in Greenwich Village. But that was a silly idea—a ridiculous one. Why would someone like Stephen even consider spending the rest of his life with someone like her? All she had brought him since she arrived on his doorstep two years ago was pain, misery, and chaos.

And yet, for some reason that Janet could never understand or explain, he refused to let her go. Time after time, she had tried to push him away. At first, she'd done it because he had broken her heart. Then she had done it to protect him. And now? Now he had traveled to an entirely separate universe just to find her and bring her home.

Janet still couldn't figure out how he had managed it. She was a special case—someone who could reverse her molecular polarity at will. But Stephen? He couldn't—could he?

There was also the question of Cassie, Thor, and Wanda. Had they also found a way to reach the Negative Zone unscathed? Or was it only a matter of time before the detrimental effects of their journey would begin to manifest?

" _Janet_ ," Loki hissed suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts. "We're here."

The transport had just landed on a massive platform that encircled the uppermost levels of Sinué Tower, and she quickly realized that they were not the first guests to arrive. Other ships had already docked on their left and their right, and lavishly dressed men and women were entering the tower through the grand archway that lay directly ahead.

"Let's go," the Asgardian whispered, standing and offering her his arm.

Janet took it, and as they followed the Osiri family out of the shuttle, she reminded herself of all their names. The father, Gamal, and his wife Rania. Their son Nour and their twin daughters, Sabra and Rashida.

 _"Watch closely, dear."_

She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing as the echo of her mother's words haunted her yet again.

 _"Listen."_

They approached the entrance, muffled music reaching her ears. Rhythmic pulses and vibrations. The electric hum of a synthesizer. A woman's voice.

 _"Bring the world to its knees."_

Darkness swallowed her, and then Janet found herself standing in a vast room lit only in hues of blue and purple. To her left, a lounge area with black crescent couches and glowing, bowl-shaped tables. Ahead, a bar with white chairs and asymmetric panes of glass behind it that opened to reveal a variety of bottled beverages. And to her right, a dance floor with strobing lights and a stage beside it. On the platform stood a woman—the one she had heard singing—in a silver sequin dress and a man playing a keyboard.

Bodies were everywhere. Voices. Speakers booming. Glasses clinking. A touch. A whisper.

"Find your center."

Loki's calm instruction brought her back from the brink. Janet took another deep breath and shut her eyes, closing herself off from it all. It was too much—too much information. Too much input for her to absorb at once. Everything was so _loud_.

"Focus," he murmured in her ear. "Take them one at a time."

And so Janet began to separate and categorize each sound, each disturbance in the air around her. Then she filed them away in her subconscious, bringing order to the chaos of her mind.

"Okay," she told him finally. "I'm ready."

"The Amon family is already here," Loki informed her, glancing toward the bar.

"Then let's go talk to them."

"Wait," he warned, grabbing her arm as she took a step toward them. "The opportunity will present itself. Have patience."

"Clea!"

Both of them turned as Sabra Osiri hurried over with a grin, followed closely by her sister.

"Look! Father's going to make a toast to the two of you!"

As the song came to a close, Janet saw Gamal approach the performers and briefly speak to them. Then she could only look on in silent horror as he claimed the microphone.

"Greetings, noble families of Shadow City!" he began with gusto. "Before I make a very special announcement, I would like to thank the Sinués for hosting this truly magnificent gathering."

He paused for an enthusiastic round of applause.

"As many of you already know, there are two honored guests in attendance with my family this evening: Prince Loki of Asgard and his lovely partner, Clea. Tonight, it is my privilege to formally announce their engagement!"

More applause. Gamal grinned from ear to ear, raising his newly acquired glass.

"I would like to make a toast to the betrothed, and I invite them to be the first to take the dance floor for this next song!"

Janet's mouth fell open, and she looked at Loki. He met her gaze, his features betraying his equal surprise. But he quickly masked it with a smile and offered her his hand, which she hesitantly took.

"This isn't what I came here for," she muttered as he led her toward the dance floor.

"Every good hunter must learn to wait for its prey," Loki responded coolly. "Enjoy the chase."

"This is no hunt. This is a circus."

Janet turned to face him, and he drew her much closer than she would have liked.

"Then perform," he said. "Give them what they want."

Her right hand was in his left, and she placed the other on his shoulder as he slipped his arm around her waist. Though she plastered an expression of blissful adoration on her face, her eyes told a different story.

The first tentative notes twinkled into existence, steadily rising and shifting into a flurry of dreamlike mystery. The keyboard had taken on the form of a classical piano, its flowing melody as beautiful as it was haunting. They glided across the dance floor with great speed, spinning and twirling and captivating the onlookers with their dramatic flourishes. But for Janet, every gesture was empty.

Sorrow and regret tugged at her heartstrings as she remembered another time—long ago when she had gazed into the eyes of a different partner. One whose every movement had effortlessly matched her own. Whose untamed spirit had found kinship with hers.

Sparkling gowns, robes, and capes whirled all around them as other couples were allowed to join them on the dance floor. Echoes of laughter and ecstatic smiles. Glittering lights and a magical night that was just out of reach. Glimpses of golden warmth eclipsed the dark world around her, and the faces of strangers became faces she knew.

What she wouldn't give to feel that perfect euphoria again!  
For just a moment, Janet dared to hope, dared to dream that she could escape this endless cycle of death and despair. That paradise could be hers.

But that fragile fantasy was shattered in an instant. Glimpsing a solitary shadow drifting through the crowd like a ghost, her joyful facade fractured, and she stared in horror as a pair of cold gray eyes gazed back at her.

"What is it?" Loki asked, his brow furrowing.

Janet glanced at him, then back at the last place she had seen the specter standing. But he had vanished.

"Nothing," she answered with a shake of her head.

As the song came to a close, Loki cast her out one last time. But when she spun away from him, Janet's eyes rose to the balcony above them, and her heart stopped. She let go of his hand, her eyes wide and her chest heaving.  
A masked man wearing a long black coat with a flared red collar leaned upon the railing, and he was looking directly at her.

" _Clea_ ," Loki hissed behind her.

But she ignored him and started swiftly making her way through the crowd.

" _Janet!_ "

A new song began, and she collided with dancing guests as she left him far behind her. She was convinced this time that what she saw was no vision—no illusion.

Finally escaping the confines of the dance floor, Janet lengthened her strides and headed for the nearest staircase. Her breaths came hard and fast as she gripped the sleek railing and ascended the wide steps as rapidly as her floor-length dress would allow her. She passed by more than a few guests with baffled expressions, but she hardly noticed them.

Hurrying to the center of the long balcony, Janet reached her destination at last.

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed breathlessly.

"I could ask you the same question," Stephen answered, turning to face her. "I thought you were in prison?"

"I was, but I escaped. Well—I was rescued."

He gestured broadly with his hands as he approached her. "And now, here you are, parading around at an elite gathering and announcing your engagement to the madman who nearly destroyed New York."

"Don't be ridiculous, Stephen. It's a ruse. I have a reason for being here."

"One that you didn't feel inclined to share with me."

"Because I knew you wouldn't like it," she countered.

"Why? Because there's another piece you're planning to remove from the board?"

"Look," Janet lowered her voice and glanced around as she took another step closer to him, "I'm here for a lead on Blastaar—and not for the reason you think. I told you before that he's working for Jack, so I'm hoping that he'll be able to tell me where I can find him."

"Well, I have an equally pressing problem," Stephen sighed. "The Eye of Agamotto has been stolen."

" _What?_ When?"

"After the bounty hunters blew up your apartment. Janet, I have to find it quickly. If it falls into the wrong hands, the results will be catastrophic."

His urgency was apparent, and she tried to think quickly.

"Well, if your lead led you here, then maybe our targets are one and the same. We could…" She hesitated, then glanced up at him. "We could work together."

"Wait. I'm sorry." He blinked and shook his head. "Did I just hear you say—?"

"Okay, forget it. I'm taking it back."

"Oh, it's too late now," he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "You're stuck with me."

Janet rolled her eyes. "Stephen, I feel like I've been stuck with you my entire life."

She turned and headed for the stairs, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to face him.

"We do this on one condition," he added seriously.

"What's that?" she inquired, their eyes locked.

"You don't kill _anyone._ "

"Fine."

He released her, and Janet studied him for a moment, sensing his uncertainty. His faith in her had been shaken—that much was obvious. But she found that she couldn't blame him for it.  
"Let's go," she said.

Stephen moved to walk alongside her. "So, care to explain how you ended up working with Loki?"

"He's the one who rescued me," Janet explained, noting the many curious eyes that followed them. "They had put me in cryostasis. There was nothing I could do. But he came and got me out. He told me that he had spoken with the Avengers—recently—and that he had told them to find you, to find Thor, and ensure that you stayed far away from Shadow City."

"Why?"

"Because something's coming, Stephen, and if you aren't there to protect Earth…" She stopped and took a breath in an effort to compose herself.

His brow creased with concern. "Janet, what is it?"

Finally, she met his gaze. "It's Jack. I think he still has the Darkhold, and he's planning an invasion. And if his connection to Blastaar is any indication, I would guess that he's raising an army."

"Janet…"

Stephen stepped even closer, the lump in her throat nearly strangling her.

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

For a moment, she considered it—considered telling him that she believed she might have actually spoken to Jack while she was in her state of deep unconsciousness. But then…  
"No," Janet responded firmly. "The answer's easy, isn't? We find Jack and then…"

"Then…what?" he prompted.

She swallowed. "We stop him. I don't know how, but we'll find a way. I'm not going to kill my own brother."

"Clea!"

They turned to see Loki and every member of the Osiri family approaching them.

"What happened?" Sabra asked anxiously.

"Why did you leave Loki?" Rashida added. "The two of you were dancing so beautifully together."

Gamal's expression was solemn as his gaze shifted to Stephen. "Who is this?"

Janet grinned and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, he's just a—"

"We were lovers," Stephen said before she could finish. "Things ended between us several years ago, but when I heard that she was going to marry someone else, I just…couldn't let her go without telling her how I truly feel."

Rashida gasped and looked at Loki. The Asgardian feigned shock, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open.

"But, Clea, you don't…you don't share his sentiments, do you?"

Recovering quickly from her surprise, Janet caused her lip to tremble pitifully. "I-I'm so sorry, Loki, but I love him! I always have."

Sliding the ring off her finger, she tearfully placed it in his outstretched hand. Loki dramatically curled his fingers around it and bowed his head in grief.

"I guess this is goodbye then."

With a swish of his cape, he turned sharply on his heel and headed for the exit.

"Oh my," Rania gasped, placing one delicate hand over her heart.

"That was…the most romantic thing I've ever seen!" Rashida burst as soon as Loki had retreated to a sufficient distance.

"Oh, congratulations!" Sabra cried. "You must be so happy!"

"That was truly magnificent," Gamal praised, stepping forward and heartily shaking Stephen's hand. "This will be all the families talk about for weeks—all thanks to an honored guest of the Osiris!"

"I'm…glad I could be of assistance," Stephen replied with a smile. "Now, if you'll please excuse us, _Clea_ and I have not yet shared a dance this evening."

Taking Janet's hand, he led her back toward the dance floor, but she stiffened with reluctance.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Escaping," he whispered back.

"From who?"

"There's a man—a butler, I think. He's been watching us, and I think he was about to make his move."

Her heart beat faster. "Do you think he recognizes us?"

"Most likely."

She gasped as he suddenly turned and pulled her to him, one hand firmly grasping hers and the other on her back. And before she could process what was happening, he swept her across the dance floor. Janet tensed, though she had no choice but to move with him. An eerie waltz had begun, the soft twinkling of the synthesizer causing her to imagine ghostly fingers dancing over phantom keys. It was dark, mysterious—frightening. Just like before.

The gazes of shadowy onlookers stabbed into her back like invisible daggers. They encircled her, trapped her. There was no way out.

Heart pounding, Janet glanced up into Stephen's eyes and gripped his hand tighter. He drew her closer until she could see nothing but him. They were spinning, their light steps moving in time with the rapid plucking of a stringed instrument. He was strong, safe, secure. An anchor in the midst of a black swirling sea of uncertainty.

So close were they that their breaths mingled, a tingle running down her spine as a decisive note rang out. Stephen raised his right arm, taking hers with it, and Janet made a tight twirl. Then her back was against his chest. Their entwined fingers draped across her torso, his left hand catching her hip.

The note faded into silence, the synth dropping until it was a low hum. Its deep vibration thrummed in Janet's ears as she closed her eyes. The sound of cymbals washed over her, halting and hesitant at first. But the rhythm of their collision steadily became bolder—louder. Two beats boomed, one after the other, like the combined thumping of their hearts.

Then a harsh cord struck. Stephen cast her out, suddenly and fiercely. Whirling away from him, Janet's gaze turned once again to the faceless crowd. She heard the echo of many voices whispering, wondering, questioning. Their murmur swelled like a rising tide and threatened to drown her in their multitude.

But then Stephen reeled her back in. Janet's arms fell around his neck, her fingers buried in his black hair as he dipped her between his legs. The music reached its final crescendo, and when he brought her back up, she gazed intently into his eyes. Both of them knew what was coming. They could sense it.

An impending fight.  
She took a step back, her hand in his as she lowered herself onto one knee. Stephen joined her, meeting her in the middle as the last notes faded into silence. Looking past him, Janet saw a new figure standing on the balcony, one with white glowing eyes and a crimson suit. _Lockdown.  
_ "There's a woman too," Stephen whispered, his gaze fixed on what was behind her.

"It's Stone. We need to find our target and _get out of here._ "

"Cassie and Wanda already have him. We just have to regroup and escape."

"Good." She gave his hand an affirmative squeeze.

"Ready?"

"Now!" she said, springing into action.  
And in that moment, the room erupted into chaos.


	24. Chapter 24

Cassie slid her hands down the front of the red dress she wore. It was by far the prettiest thing she'd ever owned, and she felt a pang of regret in knowing it wasn't real. Wanda stood over their prisoner, who was still unconscious. They were waiting for him to return to his senses.

"Maybe I should go help him," Cassie mused quietly, standing near the door of the bathroom.

"No." Wanda shot her eyes over at Cassie. "He told us to wait for him."

"Yeah, but-"

"Cassie, no."

With a sigh, she nodded, fully aware that Wanda was right. Wanda's eye was a dark blue color and purple at the edges-the same color as her shimmering dress that trailed the floor. Cassie stared at the finger marks on Wanda's throat. True to her suspicions, Kal's men had in fact gone back for her. And of course, they had been unsuccessful.

Cassie's eyes scanned the small bathroom. Ornate fixtures. No windows. Heavily decorated walls.

She let her gaze settle on the man crumpled on the floor. His robe was a deep crimson color, and there was a black belt around his waist. His head was covered by what appeared to be a turban-also black. She hadn't meant to knock him out, but when Wanda's mind tricks had failed, panic had surged through her.

At least he was contained.

"What happened earlier?" Wanda asked suddenly in the silence.

Cassie raised her gaze and shifted uneasily. She didn't want to think about it.

IIIIIIIIII

 _"Steve?"_

 _She scrambled backward, the dusty ground offering little traction to her bloody palms. Wind blew strands of her into her face, and she struggled to her feet, keeping her eyes on the man smiling in front of her._

 _Not possible..._

 _"Yeah," he grinned, stepping forward and reaching for her._

 _Unwilling to let herself be caught off guard again, Cassie shrank away, stumbling from her own dizziness._

 _"Whoa," Steve whispered softly, catching her before she could fall._

 _She recognized the touch and the tenderness in his eyes._ _Countless hours had been spent holding those hands, staring into the mesmerizing gaze of the soldier._

 _She shivered now, though, against the touch of his fingers._ _Blood oozed down her face, and Cassie pulled away and lifted her T-shirt to wipe it off._

 _"How are you here?" she asked calmly, unwilling to pull her gaze away from his._

 _"I can't do this anymore," he sighed, shimmering slightly before revealing an ornately clad Asgardian._

 _Cassie said nothing, not daring to move or to pull her eyes from the face of the raven-haired god. He tugged slightly at his sleeves and dusted off his emerald cloak._

 _"I've come to warn you about why I sent you here."_

 _"Why would you do that?" Cassie interrupted, feeling betrayed, overwhelmed, and frightened._

 _"An Asgardian has little business in Shadow C_ _ity that does not raise the brows of even the lowest sewer rat." Loki looked her over intently, and Cassie took a step back._

 _"You took the one person-the one person that I-" Choking on her words, Cassie turned, walking briskly away from him before he could catch her weakness._

 _He merely shimmered into existence before her, catching her with his cold, stiff fingers._

 _"Let go of me," she cried, thrashing in his grip wildly._

 _"Be quiet," he hissed, eyes moving rapidly around them._

 _Breath wouldn't come into her lungs. She was panicking, and Loki knew it._ _He held her arms tightly and whispered softly._

 _"You have to calm down, or we're both in danger."_

 _Her body shook, and Loki lowered her to the ground, letting her try to catch her breath. It had been too much. Kidnapped in her sleep. Betrayed by Kal. Seeing the man from the dumpster. And finally-this._

 _No matter what she tried to do, Cassie couldn't seem to get breath into her lungs._ _Loki placed his hands on the sides of her neck._

 _"Take a deep breath."_

 _She tried to do as he asked but found she couldn't._

 _"It's this place," he whispered, looking around. "You can't survive in Shadow City."_

 _He placed a hand against her chest and another on her forehead. Slowly, she felt herself calming down and her heart rate slowing._ _Weakly, she curled into a ball, and Loki placed his hand on her shoulder._

 _"Better?"_

 _Nodding silently, Cassie could feel each heartbeat in her body._

 _"You don't have long here."_

 _Loki lifted her in his arms, and she watched as he transformed back into Steve._

IIIIIIIIII

"Well," she murmured, turning away from Wanda, "after Loki helped me back to you and Stephen...he told me about the Eye of Agamotto, which led to the ball and these dresses and Stephen looking for-"

"I know that, Cassie," Wanda interrupted. "I meant before that."

"Nothing really," she lied, lifting a finger to her broken nose.

Stephen had tried his best to fix it for her, but there was still some tenderness there.

"Hey, what's going on here?" their prisoner groaned, lifting a hand to his head.

Cassie and Wanda let the conversation end as they both came to the man's side.

"Don't make a move," Wanda murmured, pressing a dagger against the man's chest.

Both knew they needed no physical weapons to control him, but he did not.

"What do you want?" he barked in a low, gravely voice.

"You know what we want," Cassie spoke matter of factly, having no time for games.

"The Eye of Agamotto," Wanda finished, pointing the tip of the dagger purposefully.

"Two little ladies don't scare me," the man grinned at them.

Wanda smiled innocently at the man and sat back on her heels. "You're right," she murmured in a small voice. "What could a little lady like me," she lifted a hand, letting magic pop and spark between her fingers, "possibly do to a big, strapping man like you?"

Cassie watched his dark eyes grow wide and his smile morph into a grimace against his olive skin. Kneeling on the plush carpet, she tilted the man's head back, and he dared not move, the crackling sound of magic still audible.

"Where is it?" she asked slowly.

"I don't have it," he hissed.

Cassie pulled her own dagger and pointed it carefully. "No lies, please," she smiled.

"I-I don't-" he stuttered. "Listen. Listen-"

"We're listening," Wanda mocked, false politeness on her face.

"I-I bought it from the Twisted Sisters."

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "And now?"

"I gave it to Blastaar."

"Why?" Wanda prodded.

The man was silent, eyes darting between the two of them.

"She asked you a question," Cassie said, letting her voice rise.

Suddenly, the door snapped open, and Cassie jumped to her feet, holding a hand out protectively.

"It's me," Stephen hissed. "We have to go. Now. Subdue him."

His robes were torn, his hair disheveled, and Wanda opened her mouth to ask a question.

"Now!" Stephen barked, leaving them no time.

It took little energy for Cassie to knock the man out again, and she did so gladly. Wanda stood and moved to Stephen's side. Cassie aimed to do the same but was caught off guard when the room started spinning. Landing hard against the floor due to the spin, she could feel the jarring in her skull. Why was everything shaking?

Trying to breathe became a challenge, and for some reason, everything seemed fuzzy. Where was she? What was happening? Was someone calling her name?

The blurry shapes that kneeled before her were not identifiable. She would have been perfectly content to sleep there, but for some reason, her brain wouldn't seem to shut off. The lack of air in the room was strange, but not as strange as the continuous earthquake that seemed to rock the room.


	25. Chapter 25

Stephen shrouded the room in a blanket of mist, and Janet became one with the shadows. Reappearing behind Lockdown, she kicked him over the railing. He hit the floor below with a dull clang that could scarcely be heard above the screams and the running footsteps of those who were frantically fleeing. Walking out of the fog, Stephen cast crimson bands from his fingers that wrapped themselves around Lockdown where he lay. And no matter how much he struggled, there was nothing he could do to break his bindings.

Janet swung down from the balcony and landed as lightly as if she had only dropped a few feet. "Did you get Stone?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah," Stephen nodded. "Let's go—"

" _Don't move!_ "

Armored figures emerged from the cloud enveloping them. Some carried blasters, others gripping stun staffs in their gloved hands.

"Who are they?" Stephen muttered irritably.

She shrugged. "Private security?"

"You're outnumbered!" the officer warned again.  
"Funny," Janet answered dryly. "I only see ten of you."

Confusion passed over their faces, and that brief delay was all she and Stephen needed to gain the advantage. Making quick circular movements with his hands, he then cast them out and scattered the soldiers with a powerful gust of wind. While they were down and disoriented and the mist was swirling like an angry tempest, she moved amongst them as swiftly and silently as a ghost, incapacitating them one by one. It was easy when all she had to do was follow the rapid thumps of their panicked heartbeats.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five—_

Janet cried out as fiery pain suddenly flared in the center of her back. Her limbs spasmed, and she collapsed. Lying on the floor, she helplessly stared at her twitching fingers as Stephen moved to disarm the man who had struck her with his staff. The guard swung sharply downward at a diagonal angle, but Stephen dodged and caught the shaft with his black-gloved hands. Thrusting the staff back into the officer's chin, he then ripped it from his opponent's grasp and jabbed him with one of the weapon's dangerous tips. Sparks flew, electricity crackling over the man's body as Stephen sent him sprawling.  
Rolling onto her back, Janet saw another soldier charging toward her. Though her body remained incapable of rising, her mind could still summon dark powers to aid her. A black pillar jutted out of the ground and crushed the man against the ceiling, then released him as it sank back into oblivion.

Glancing to her left, she saw Stephen dispatch two more guards by flinging bolts of energy from his fingertips. As they fell, he turned to face her once more. But when his eyes focused on something behind her, he made a frantic throwing motion with his right arm. A telekinetic force lifted the fallen staff from the floor and hurled it into the chest of the officer running up behind her. The impact reversed his momentum, and he landed hard on his back.

Janet stared at his convulsing form as the magnetic staff remained fixed to his metallic breastplate.

"Are you all right?"

Stephen had approached and was offering her his hand. Her limbs still felt numb and tingly all at once, but she thought she could stand now. Accepting his aid, Janet winced as he pulled her to her feet.

"I'm fine," she managed. "Do you think that's the last of them?"

"For now."

"You should go get Cassie," she suggested, "before their friends show up. I'll stay here and make sure they stay down."

"Okay," he agreed hesitantly, "but remember what we—"

"I'm not the one electrocuting people with stun staffs," Janet interrupted, already knowing what he was about to say.

"Let's call it an unfortunate but necessary precaution," he replied with a facade of solemn duty. But she caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"You can use all the fancy words you like, Stephen. But never forget—I know you. Better than anyone."

"And I can assure you, _Clea_ , that I have no idea what you're implying."

"Call me Clea again, and it'll be the last word you ever speak."

He shrugged. "Well, I can think of worse ways to go."

"Go on," she said, turning away to conceal the smile that was sneaking onto her lips. "Get out of here—before I lose my temper."  
As the sound of his retreating footsteps reached her ears, Janet fixed her eyes on their fallen foes. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes, and they would leave this wretched place behind for good.

**********

After everyone else had gone through, Janet entered the swirling gateway she had opened. Leaving the flashing lights and marble floors far behind her, she found herself standing in a familiar place. An old, dark warehouse that she was pleased to see was just as abandoned as when she had left it.

"What should I do with him?" asked Wanda, gripping the back of their unconscious prisoner's robe.

"Throw him back there," Janet replied, indicating the storage room to their right. "I have a few questions for him."

As Maximoff dragged the man away, Stephen carefully lowered Cassie onto the floor and leaned her back against the concrete wall. Her eyes were fluttering, and she moaned miserably, pressing her hands to the sides of her head.

He straightened and took a breath, watching her with obvious concern. "I don't think you should interrogate him alone."

"Stephen, I told you that I wasn't going to kill anyone," Janet insisted, removing her mask. "I need you to trust me."

As he sighed and slid off his own disguise, she searched his conflicted gaze.

"I want to," he said earnestly, "but—"

"Stephen."

They turned at the sound of Wanda's voice as she reentered the room.

"You were right," she announced, crossing her arms over her chest. "The Twisted Sisters did sell the Eye of Agamotto to the Amon family. But he doesn't have it anymore. He gave it to someone else."

"Who?" Stephen questioned, his brow furrowing.  
"Someone called Blastaar."

Janet's breath caught, and she exchanged a glance with Stephen.

"Did he say anything else?" he prodded.

Wanda shook her head. "No. After that, you ran in and told us it was time to go."

"I'll find out if he knows Blastaar's location," Janet declared, heading for the storage room.

"Wait."

Stephen caught her arm, and she looked back at him.

"I'm coming with you."

"No," she answered firmly. "Cassie needs your help. I can handle this alone."  
"I'll go with her, Stephen," Wanda offered.

"Thanks," Janet responded flatly, "but I don't need a kid to babysit me."

Anger flared in Maximoff's eyes, and Janet turned her back on them. As she walked away, she heard the girl hiss to Stephen: "Why didn't you stop her?"

Using a weakly flickering panel to gain access, Janet entered the storage room, and the door closed behind her. There was only darkness within—just the way she wanted it. Coldly observing their captive, who slouched against the far wall, she strode forward and delivered a sharp kick to his ribs.

"Wake up," she snarled. "It's time for a chat."

He came to with a startled cry, clutching his wounded side and staring into the blackness with wide eyes. "W-who are you? Where have you taken me?"

"I'm asking the questions here. Speak out of turn again, and you'll wish you hadn't."

"P-please don't hurt me," he implored. "I don't know anything!"

"Come now—we both know that's not true. You recently purchased a very valuable relic from the Twisted Sisters, which you then delivered to Blastaar. Tell me why you gave it to him."

"I just—I just needed the money. Blastaar was willing to pay."

"I see," Janet nodded skeptically. "You, a member of one of the richest families in Shadow City, were in desperate need of some additional funds. But somehow, you managed to pay the Twisted Sisters what I imagine was quite a hefty sum for the artifact—one you claim to know nothing about. So tell me, why were you willing to take such a risk?"

"I-I sold it for more," he stammered, sweat beading on his brow. "It was worth the—"

She thrust out a hand, using her powers to fling him across the room. Whimpering, he crawled into the farthest corner and hugged his knees to his chest.

"How about we skip the part where you lie to me? I don't have time for games. Tell me everything you know— _now!_ Where is Blastaar? Why did he want the relic?"

"I c-can't," he sniveled, rocking back in forth. "He'll—he'll kill me."

"Who?" she demanded. "Blastaar?"

"No," he moaned pitifully. "No, not him…"

Janet's chest heaved, her heart clenching and her insides twisting in torturous knots as her worst fears were realized. She stormed toward him.

"Then who? _Answer me!"_

He cowered lower in complete terror and refused to speak another word. The sting of her brother's betrayal was more than enough to send power surging through her veins, her pain and rage fueling her strength as she lifted her prisoner from the ground and held him against the wall with an invisible grip. Then Janet stepped very close to him, his feet helplessly flailing above the floor.

"I _will_ get the truth out of you," she threatened. "One way…or another."  
Shoving the palm of her hand against his forehead, she broke down the barriers of his mind and invaded his thoughts—his memories.

**********

An ivory tower rose out of the darkness, and she saw him running toward it. Janet pursued him, voices echoing all around her. They whispered, laughed, cried. There was joy, pain, and sorrow—all connected by a single thread. A unit bound by blood.

 _Family,_ she realized.

He burst through the doors, and they closed in his wake. But they were incapable of withstanding the telekinetic blast she sent their way.

"Bring me the Eye of Agamotto, and you will be rewarded."

 _Blastaar._

Amon retreated into an elevator, frantically pressing the button that would shut the doors. Janet lunged to catch them, but she was too late. Slamming her fist against them with a growl of frustration, she slipped her fingers into the crevice and began to pull them apart. Her muscles strained, her teeth clenched with stubborn determination. Finally, she created a wide enough gap for her to squeeze through, and Janet peered into the shaft.

High above her, she saw the elevator rapidly rising. Eyes narrowing, she launched herself into the air and ascended with shadowy wings. Complete darkness engulfed her, Janet's arms pressed to her sides as a trail of tenebrous energy was left in her wake. Soaring skyward, her gaze remained fixed on one thing—a circle of light that glowed on the underside of the elevator.

Amon would not escape her. Blastaar would not escape her. Not this time.

Metallic groans and screeches reverberated down the shaft—the sounds of the elevator grinding to a halt. Reducing her molecular density, Janet phased through the floor of it as easily as a ghost and then ceased her upward momentum. Her feet met solid ground once more, and she discovered that Amon had already fled the elevator. Its doors stood open, a black marble corridor just beyond them. Advancing, she cautiously glanced from left to right, counting the doors that lined both sides of the hall.

Which one had he gone through?

Janet stopped and closed her eyes. Reaching out with her senses, she listened to the silence. He couldn't hide from her—not when she could feel the vibration of every person's pulse. The thump of their heart. The essence of their soul.

"This tower will serve my purposes now," said Blastaar's disembodied voice.

"Wait," Amon ventured with some hesitation, "that was never our agreement. Perhaps…alternative arrangements—"

"Would you like to live, Hemed?"

A pause.

"Yes," he answered at last.

"Then do not question me again, or you will answer to the one who holds the Book of Sins."

Janet's eyes opened again, and she moved with newfound purpose. Amon's fear radiated like a beacon. Following it to the end of the corridor, she tried to turn the knob of the door on the right but found it locked. One blast of umbrakinetic energy from her extended fingertips was all it took to decimate the last obstacle that stood between hunter and prey.

" _Get out of my head!_ "

Hemed's desperate cry rang out as Janet crossed the threshold.

"I-If I give you what you seek, he'll kill me! He'll kill my wife—my children!"

"Blastaar is using Amon Tower as his new base, isn't he?" she said. "You don't have to tell me. Your thoughts have already betrayed you."

"Please, let me go!" he begged. "Don't ask me about _h-him_. Let me go to my family, and we will leave the tower. You can do whatever you want to Blastaar. Just—"

He croaked, his hands suddenly flying to his heart as he gasped and spluttered. He collapsed onto his knees, his eyes bulging and silently pleading for mercy.

A man stood behind him, silhouetted against the neon lights of Shadow City.

Her breath caught, her blood chilling in an instant. Janet watched, appalled, as her brother crushed the life out of Amon without lifting a finger.

"No loose ends," Jack said simply, his victim hitting the floor with a dull thud. "It's bad for business."

And the last thing she saw before the mindscape collapsed was his cold, wicked smile.

**********

Janet staggered backwards and then fell, her palms scraping concrete. Hemed's corpse stared back at her, his petrified eyes revealing the grim nature of his demise.

"What have you done?"

Flinching, she looked and saw Stephen and Wanda standing in the open doorway. The girl's exclamation was one of shock and indignation, but he appeared to be at a loss for words.

"I-I didn't do this," Janet stammered, still reeling.

"Is this it?" Wanda demanded of Stephen. "Is this what you needed to see to believe that she's not who you think she is?"

"I didn't do this!" Janet repeated urgently, scrambling to her feet.

Wanda thrust out a hand. "Don't move," she warned.

He looked at her in alarm. "What are you doing?"

"She's a murderer, Stephen! We can't just allow her to walk free."

"What's going on back there?" Cassie called anxiously from the other room.  
"She is dealing with powers and entities that—"

"She just executed an unarmed prisoner," Maximoff interrupted, her eyes blazing. "She's assassinated countless targets, tortured innocent captives, and she almost killed you!"

"People can change, Wanda. You should know that better than anyone."

Her eyes narrowed, her disappointment apparent as she shook her head. "You are blinded by your feelings for her."

"If you want to leave, then go," he retorted, gesturing toward the door. "No one is forcing you to stay."

"As an Avenger, it's my job to bring criminals to justice—especially those who have committed crimes against the people of Earth. She is too powerful to ignore. If her actions continue to go unchecked and unpunished, I fear that she will bring disaster for us all."

Suddenly, Cassie appeared in the doorway, her brow creased with confusion. But when she saw Amon's lifeless body slumped against the wall, she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in horror.

"I'm well aware of her crimes," Stephen said, stepping between them and Janet, "but I will not condemn her for this man's murder before I listen to what she has to say."

"She was the only other person in the room," Wanda maintained.

"Do we know that?" he replied. "Beware of jumping to conclusions. Rarely is it wise."

Like Maximoff, Cassie seemed to be unconvinced. But before either of them could protest further, he turned and grasped Janet's arm.

"Come with me."  
He led her from the room, guiding her back through the main area and into a second storage room on the other side of the warehouse. As he released her and then pressed a button to close the door behind them, she stood with her gaze fixed on the floor, fighting back tears.

"Tell me that I just defended you with good reason," Stephen said, facing her with entreating eyes.

"H-he was there. Jack. There was nothing I could do. He just—" Janet stopped and swallowed hard.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"Amon wouldn't talk, so I—I went into his mind to find the truth myself. And it worked. I learned Blastaar's location, but Amon was _terrified_ of Jack. He begged me to let him go. He told me that if he said _anything_ about Jack, he would kill him and his family. I was going to release him—I swear I was. But then Jack… He was there, and he—" She choked on the lump in her throat, her tears finally spilling over. "He _crushed_ his heart. Like it meant nothing to him."

She sucked in a shallow breath, the pressure building inside her until she felt like she was going to explode. "My brother. My little brother…"

"Come here," Stephen said, taking her into his arms.

Burying her face in his chest, Janet clung to him like her life depended on it. Everything was falling apart. Everyone she'd ever loved had abandoned her—everyone except him. He was all she had left in this sad, broken world.

As Janet sobbed, clutching the soft fabric of his robe between her fingers, Stephen silently stroked her hair and held her close. But there was something else—surrounding her, wrapping around her like a blanket. And without needing to open her eyes, she knew that it was the Cloak of Levitation.


	26. Chapter 26

The moment Stephen and Janet were out of earshot, Cassie and Wanda began speaking simultaneously.

"We can't let-"

"Stephen isn't listening-"

Both stopped, surprised.

"So we're on the same page," Wanda continued cautiously, casting a glance over her shoulder.

Cassie nodded. "I don't trust that woman, and Stephen-well, he's blinded by his feelings," she said with a sigh, attempting to ignore the pain that haunted her body.

"I agree." Wanda clasped her hands together, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. "I do not know how to make him see reason. Pietro once did something similar."

"Who's that?" Cassie asked, watching Wanda's eyes soften at the name.

For a moment, Cassie wondered what she'd said wrong-what horrible memory she'd just forced Wanda to think about.

"My brother." Her voice was but a whisper.

"So, what are we going to do?" Cassie asked, trying to change the subject for Wanda's sake.

Wanda merely shook her head.

"We cannot allow Janet to come, We need to find Thor and-well, I don't know."

Cassie felt a searing pain spread up from her abdomen and through her chest. and she let out a gasp of pain. Grasping Wanda's arm, she sank against the wall. Grunting as she caught the weight of Cassie's body, Wanda helped lower her to the floor.

"Something is so wrong," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Not going to last long."

"You're fine," Wanda whispered, looking nervously in the direction that Stephen had taken Janet.

"You have to take care of Stephen. Don't-" Cassie brought a hand to her head. "Don't let him get caught up-too caught up with Janet."

She closed her eyes, focusing on breathing. Once again, her head was swimming, the world a fuzzy glare before her. Lights hurt like bullets through her head, and it was easier to keep still.

Wanda knelt and sat next to Cassie supportively. "We're going to take you back soon."

"We don't even know where Thor is," Cassie mumbled, feeling hopeless against the odds. "Loki-Loki said-"

"We can't trust what he says," Wanda interrupted.

The air was stiff, and breathing was no easy task. Cassie clutched at her bloody T-shirt-the dress long gone-and moaned loudly, pain coursing through her skull as it seemed to spread to every cell.

"Cassie?" Stephen's voice was faint in the opposite room.

Even Wanda's voice, though she sat right next to her, seemed distorted. The sound of footsteps were muted against the concrete flooring, but Stephen knelt next to her, cupping her face in his hand. She was struggling to breathe, gasping at the empty feeling in her lungs.

"Breathe, Cass. Breathe," he whispered gently, his hand buried in her matted hair.

"I don't want to die, Stephen," she croaked, tears leaking from beneath her closed lids.

His lips pressed against her forehead: "You won't."

He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her head in his chest, letting him support her.

Finally- _finally_ -everything went dark.

IIIIIIIIII

Cassie stood alone in a field of grassy tufts. Sand billowed up in the wind around the loose white skirt she wore. The wind whipped freshly cleaned curls about her face, and Cassie stared at her arms in shock-no blood, no dirt. Nothing but grass and sand looked back at her, framed by gentle white clouds puffing against a blue sky.

"Hello?" she called weakly, voice lost against the expanse.

"Hello."

Turning at the sound of the voice, Cassie was surprised to feel no fear, no dread. Seeing Norman this time was different.

He looked like a man. A real man. A young man. Coppery locks framed his face, age wrinkles replaced by smile lines. This was not Norman-this was the man who had existed before him.

"Do you know where we are?" Cassie asked him, noticing that he too wore white.

"No," he answered quietly.

She nodded. He wasn't lying, though she wasn't sure how she knew.

"I think-I think you're about to die," Norman mused, staring up at the sky.

Cassie wasn't bothered by the statement. "I think I am too."

Her legs suddenly felt heavy, and Cassie sank into the grass. Soft-gentle-like a bed. Lying on her back and staring at the sky, peace overcame her. Before she knew it, she had closed her eyes again.

IIIIIIIIII

When she opened them, the peace was gone, along with the blue sky. She lay on a velvet, curved couch, arched at the back and covered in pillows. Cassie looked down at her hands-bloody and scarred. She was not dead-nor was she going to be. Air came freely into her lungs now, and the dim light above her was soothing rather than painful.

The room was small. No windows-just the couch, two chairs, and a step stool.

"You're awake," he spoke slowly, his voice filling the tiny room with his presence.

Loki entered, drying his hands on a towel and observing her. Clenching her fingers together, Cassie felt the urge to summon her powers, to defend herself.

"Where am I? Where's Stephen?"

"Please." He held up a hand to stop her, moving until he stood at the back of the couch, his fingers grasping its frame.

"Loki-" her voice begged answers to her silent questions.

"Janet informed me of your condition worsening."

"Janet?"

"Indeed. The woman you hate saved your life." His lips curved up at the edges, his finger tapping against the carved wood.

"I don't get it." Cassie struggled to sit but let out a cry of pain, falling back against a plush throw as the fire spread upward toward her lungs.

Loki only stared at her, his eyes off-putting.

"Please tell me what's happened," she muttered, trying to stop her body from shaking with pain. Her head ached, and her abdomen stabbed at her with each movement.

"When Janet saw your condition, she knew you were on the cusp of death. Despite your precious doctor's disapproval, the only way to fix the problem was for you to leave."

"But Stephen and-"

"Yes. They called me. More precisely-Janet did."

As if the information wasn't sinking in, Cassie stared blankly at him, trying to grasp at what had happened. His gaze softened, and he came around the edge of the couch and stood over her.

"She didn't want you to die. I brought you here." He gestured to the room. "I kept you from death."

"Where is here?" she asked cautiously.

He cocked his head curiously. "Earth. Of course."

"But Stephen, and-and-no. No!" Cassie's voice was rising. "Take me back... Take me back!"

Loki only stared at her, and her anger bubbled to the surface. Stumbling to her feet, her chest heaved.

"I can't leave him there. What about your brother?" Cassie pointed a finger at him. "Wanda... I cant leave them. What if they-?"

Her body was shaking, and she couldn't stop the flow of tears rising in her eyes. Swaying forward, Cassie stumbled, and Loki caught her against his chest, surprise in his eyes. His grasp was firm, his long fingers holding her, and she rested her hand against his chest as the dizziness cleared. Biting her tongue to keep tears from leaking down her cheeks, she pulled back, sinking into the couch.

"They're fine. You, however, were not."

Cassie stared at her hands in shock, taking deep breaths. "Where are we?" she wondered without looking at him, though she could feel his sharp eyes on her.

"It's of no concern."

Cassie stared at the rusty, stained blood under her fingernails and the dust that coated her arms. "May I-is there somewhere I can clean up?"

"No."

Her eyes shot to him, perplexed.

"This place isn't real." He gestured about them, his eyes a mask of indifference.

She said nothing, letting her gaze fall around the room. There was no shimmer, nothing that would reveal an illusion.

"I can take you home," he offered.

Loki stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his cloak falling around him.

"I have an apartment. But the keys are at the Avengers Complex..."

Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Let's-let's go."


	27. Chapter 27

Janet stood alone on the rooftop, silently gazing at the distant tower whose ivory spire gleamed against a black sky. But this time, it was no illusion—no dreamlike vision rising out of the depths of a mindscape. It was real, and it housed a trap just waiting to be sprung.

After she had finally convinced Stephen to let Loki take Cassie back to Earth, yet another heated debate had commenced. Wanda, who had elected to remain with them until the Eye of Agamotto had been recovered, had argued that it was too risky to pay a visit to Amon Tower. Janet had contended that they had no choice in the matter, and Stephen had insisted that there must be a third option they hadn't considered yet.

But they were exhausted and attempting to recover from numerous injuries while on the run from ruthless bounty hunters and Shadow City's entire police force. Thus, their dispute had rapidly dissolved into little more than a petty quarrel. Wanda had eventually withdrawn, citing a headache, and Janet had sought the solitude of the rooftop.

She supposed the gentle breeze that caressed her face was pleasant enough, but it did nothing to rid her memory of the monster her brother had become. The _Darkhold_ 's influence had twisted and corrupted him so completely that she scarcely recognized him anymore. Still, Janet refused to believe that he was beyond redemption. That he was too far gone. That it was too late for him. If she just kept trying… If she refused to give up on him…

"Are you sure it's safe to be up here?"

"Nowhere in this city is safe," Janet answered without turning around.

There was a long pause, and she heard Stephen take a deep breath. It no longer required any effort on her part to sense his perpetual unease in this place.

"We can't delay much longer," he said finally. "Jack still has the _Darkhold_ , and if Blastaar has already given him the Eye of Agamotto, reality as we know it is at risk."

"I'm not the one who wanted to wait."

He sighed. "I know."

Janet continued to stare blankly ahead, refusing to close her tired eyes. "Stephen, before we go any farther… Before we do whatever it is we're about to do, I want you to know something." She swallowed hard, stubbornly clenching her jaw. "If I… If I turn on you, I want you to know that it isn't me."

"What are you talking about?"

She bit her lip and said nothing in reply.

"Janet."

When she didn't respond, he said her name again, more forcefully this time. " _Janet_ , look at me."

Slowly—reluctantly—she turned and faced him. Stephen's eyes pleaded with hers as he drew closer.

"Don't do this—not again. We've had more than enough secrets between us."

Janet sucked in a sharp breath, her throat constricting. "He's… He's in my head, Stephen. He came to me when I was in cryostasis, and he's been haunting me ever since. All the time, I see him—out of the corner of my eye. But then when I look, he's vanished like a ghost. He knows what I'm thinking, where I am. He knows my next move before I make it. I'm putting you in danger just by _being_ with you."

Stephen's brow furrowed in concern. "Has he ever influenced your actions before?"

"No… No, I don't think so. But sometimes I can't tell the difference between dreams and reality anymore. You know what my powers can do to me—the affect they can have. If Jack can somehow amplify that, or—or—"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about your powers, Janet," he interrupted calmly, "and I have an idea about how you might be able to counteract those negative effects."

Against her better judgment, she dared to hope. "How?"

"Well, I noticed that whenever you use them, the room goes dark. You take in energy and then convert it into antimatter, or dark matter—whatever it is that your magic stems from. And then I realized that the answer was right in front of us all along. You absorb _light_ to fuel your powers. When you internalize that light, you manipulate its properties so that it becomes darkness.

"But what if… What _if_ there is a way for that light to remain pure? For you to absorb it and channel its energies as they are? Uncorrupted? If emotions such as fear, guilt, and hatred result in an expression of darkness, what might the implementation of more positive emotions achieve?"

She stared at him, stunned. "I… I don't know. I've never considered it. I just assumed that…" She stopped and shook her head. "Do you really think it's possible?"

"There's only one way to find out."

Suddenly, there was an agonized scream far below them. Janet jumped, her wide eyes darting to Stephen's. "That was Wanda."

"Let's go," he said, turning and heading for the stairs.

But he stopped dead in his tracks as a caped figure landed between them and their exit. Golden hair whipped around his hidden face, his right hand grasping a hammer that crackled with electricity.

"Thor?" Stephen called.

"Where have you been?" Janet demanded.

Slowly, the Asgardian raised his head and looked at them. Her lips parted in dismay, and Stephen immediately shifted into a combat stance. Thor's eyes were as black as the void.

Without speaking a word, he thrust Mjolnir forward and sent a powerful bolt of lightning thundering toward them. Stephen sprang into action, having only a split second to conjure a defense. A fiery mandala formed just in time, and there was a blinding flash. The shield shattered, and Janet felt like her body was being stabbed by thousands of needles all at once. Her feet left the ground, her limbs helplessly flailing as she flew backwards.

Everything went dark.

When her eyes opened again, she was falling. Terror seized her, but then—

"Save her!" Stephen cried above the wind rushing in Janet's ears.

A moment later, something moved beneath her and clamped onto her shoulders. As her muscles spasmed and she struggled to reorient herself, she saw a red-caped man with a hammer diving toward her. Forks of lightning leaped from his weapon and snaked downward. One would have struck her, but Janet was jerked out of the way by what she finally realized was the Cloak of Levitation.

Ships and speeders swerved to miss the dangerous bolts and crashed into buildings, collided with other vehicles, and plunged to fiery graves. Flames roared overhead, sparks raining down as darkness pulsed at the corners of her vision. Managing to rotate her body so that she was staring straight down into the black abyss of the Undercity, she saw Stephen far below her— _falling_.

"No," Janet gasped, reaching for him as pain stabbed at her arms and chest.

Lightning blasted a nearby building, causing it to collapse in a cascade of glass and metal. It buried Stephen like an avalanche, and the Cloak brought her momentum to an abrupt halt.

" _No!_ Let go of me!" she screamed, struggling against its impossibly strong grip.

But the Cloak tugged even more insistently than before, forcing Janet to turn and look up at Thor. He was coming for her, and she needed to act quickly if she was going to survive long enough to save Stephen.

Thunder clapped overhead, lightning cracking all around her as she ducked and swerved, narrowly evading the Asgardian's relentless barrage. Landing on the far side of a nearby rooftop, Janet summoned her courage and turned to face him. The ground shuddered when Thor's boots made contact, his cape billowing in the angry wind that swirled around him. She could feel the darkness inside him—recognize it—because it was identical to her own. This was Jack's doing—it had to be.

"Snap out of it!" she implored. "This isn't you!"

"Tell me where Cassie Powell is," he commanded in a booming voice that was scarcely recognizable.

Janet's brow creased with confusion. "I don't know," she shot back. "But even if I did, I would never tell you!"

Thor's face contorted with anger, and he raised Mjolnir to strike. She took a deep breath and braced herself, Stephen's words echoing in her mind. _"You absorb light to fuel your powers. What if there is a way for that light to remain pure? For you to absorb it and channel its energies as they are? Uncorrupted?"_

She focused her thoughts entirely on him, allowing herself to be overcome by the intensity of her desire to save him. A blinding flash of light burst from the hammer and streaked toward her. Janet reached out one hand as if to catch it. When the lightning met her fingertips, a torturous tingling sensation spread throughout her body. All breath was crushed from her lungs, and she screamed as she recoiled from the impact.

But she did not fall.

Resisting the urge to reject the tremendous heat that assaulted her seizing muscles, Janet consciously welcomed it. The overwhelming temptation to use her agony to transform the energy into an umbrakinetic force nearly broke her will, but then she remembered Stephen. _"If emotions such as fear, guilt, and hatred result in an expression of darkness, what might the implementation of more positive emotions achieve?"_

Thrusting both arms in front of her chest, she watched in wonder as a beam of white light burst from her hands. It engulfed Thor so completely that Janet could no longer see him, but could hear his cries of anguish. Still, she refused to relent, determined to purge the darkness from his body. Eldritch screeches threatened to split her eardrums, her skin feeling like it was on fire. Shadowy forms fled their Asgardian host and then disappeared.

Mjolnir hit the roof with a resounding clang, and Thor dropped onto his knees as Janet finally allowed the light to fade. Her arms fell back to her sides, her chest heaving from the effort. She suddenly felt weak and exhausted, but she was relieved to see that his eyes had returned to their natural blue. He blinked and ran a hand over his face before looking up at her in utter bewilderment.

"What… What just happened?"

"Stay here," Janet answered breathlessly as she turned and walked away from him. "I'll be right back."

IIIIIIIIII

She wandered the debris-ridden streets of the Undercity for what seemed like hours. Massive mounds of metal had piled on top of each other, forming a maze of jagged edges that proved extremely difficult to safely navigate. Broken bodies were everywhere, and each time she freed one from the wreckage, she feared that it would be Stephen's.

But it never was.

Eventually, Thor found her and joined Janet in her search—despite her order for him to remain where she had left him. But his guilt was evident, and he insisted that he could not sit idly by when he could be helping her search for Stephen. Though she appreciated his offer, the truth was that his face was the last she wished to see right now. It was he who had done this. He who had—

 _No,_ Janet reminded herself sternly. _It was Jack. Jack did this._

The Cloak that clung to her shoulders had been silent and still for some time, and she guessed that it was feeling just as anxious and filled with dread as she was.

"Where is he?" she whispered despondently.

"Perhaps," Thor ventured, "we should return to your refuge and make sure that Wanda is all right. Or I can go alone, if you will tell me where it is."

"I can't leave—not until I find him. He _has_ to be here. Somewhere…"

"He isn't."

Janet spun at the sound of Wanda's voice behind her. The girl's long hair hung in disheveled curtains around her pale face, and she was breathing hard.

"I saw your brother—I saw Jack. He invaded my mind and tried to use dark forces to possess my body. But I was able to repel him."

"How do you know that Stephen isn't here?" Janet asked impatiently. "What did Jack say to you?"

"He…" Wanda's brow wrinkled as she shook her head. "He wanted Cassie. He said that if I wouldn't tell him where she was, then someone else would. I think… I think he might have taken Stephen."

Janet felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Her heart began to pound. "Where? Where did he take him?"

"When he was inside my mind, I managed to get a glimpse of his too. I… I saw a dark chamber. I didn't recognize it, but there was this… _feeling_ that I can't explain. I believe that it could guide us to Jack's lair."

"Then we need to leave immediately and find this lair," Janet said without hesitation.

"What about Cassie?" Wanda questioned. "I don't know why Jack wants her, but she is in imminent danger. Someone needs to warn her."

"Thor," Janet decided, turning to the Asgardian, "would you mind paying the Avengers a visit for us?"

He nodded after a moment's hesitation, perceiving her hint. "Yes, of course."

"Thank you." She sighed, feeling like the weight of a thousand worlds was crushing down on her shoulders. "Let's go, Wanda."

"Janet."

Thor's strong voice stopped her in her tracks as she started to walk away.

"I truly am sorry for the part I played in all of this."

She glanced back at him. "Yeah, well…if I've learned one thing in this city, it's that it makes monsters of us all."


	28. Chapter 28

Stumbling over the gravel beneath her feet, Cassie hated her dependence on the arm that supported her.

"I'm fine. Let go."

Loki smirked at her ineptness before giving a slight tug on her arm to pull her to a stop.

"What?" she huffed, turning to face him.

His brow was creased as he stared at the cloudy sky above them and the slight mist that was starting to drizzle downward.

"Scared of the rain?" she teased.

He said nothing, his eyes darting back and forth. They stood together outside the Avengers Complex, Loki in an emerald cloak that trailed to his feet, beneath which he wore a dark suit. The cloak, she figured, was just a reminder to the Avengers.

An electrifying crackle filled the air, along with a blur of colors and a whipping wind that forced Cassie to stumble back against Loki, shielding her face from the gravel that rained down around them.

Loki tensed as his brother stood from his kneeling position and stared at them. Cassie couldn't hide her shock as her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Her dread grew inside her until she limped forward to grab his arm.

"What happened? Is everyone okay?"

Thor's hair had been pulled back from his weary face, exposing the worry lines and dark circles.

"Brother..." Loki's voice emerged, and she could hear the falseness behind his grin.

Thor ignored him, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I've come to warn you-"

His voice was cut off as a whizzing filled the air about them, a suit of metal pointing a glowing hand at Loki's face.

"Stark," Cassie gasped, moving forward as easily as she could to place her hands on his extended arm.

Loki didn't move as he stared down Tony, his eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips rising in a smirk.

"Cassie." Tony's voice emerged, muted, from the suit. "What's going on?"

"Stand down," she barked, glaring at him despite the dizziness that threatened to topple her.

Stark's head turned, and he reluctantly lowered his arm. His helmet clanged open, and she saw his eyes come to rest on hers.

"What happened?"

Her eyes swiveled to Thor, who was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling.

"I think we better go inside," she shrugged, turning her back on the three men and leading the way.

Cassie didn't look back, trudging through the rain that had begun to steadily fall, toward the complex.

"I believe my role here is complete." Loki's words traveled the distance, and she slowed, turning on her heel.

"You don't have a role," Tony sighed, raising his arm again at Loki's face.

Cassie calmly walked back to Loki, ignoring Tony. "Thank you," she murmured, trying to muster a genuine smile.

He inclined his head and disappeared in a shimmer. Tony dropped his arm uselessly and glared at her, Thor still staring at the spot where his brother had stood.

"Come on," she sighed, worried by Thor's presence.

The two men followed her, and Tony opened a door into the complex.

"Why don't you take a second to get dried off," he suggested, pointing at the puddles they were leaving on the floor.

"No," the Asgardian interrupted. "This is urgent."

"Fine," Tony murmured, pressing a button and moving to stand on a platform by the door.

The pieces of his suit began to come apart, revealing the Tony of less muster-the one clothed in a tank top and jeans. Cassie gazed absently along the empty hallways.

"He's not here." Tony turned, walking down the same hallway she'd been gazing at.

"I was just-"

"Steve's not here," he interrupted and turned to flash her a grin.

She tried not to let a blush fill her cheeks as she scowled, following him. Not accounting for the pain that crept up her side and abdomen, Cassie felt her legs give out, and she collapsed onto the cold floor. Tony turned, opening his mouth wordlessly, and Thor knelt at her side. Clenching her teeth, Cassie could taste the blood in her mouth from where she'd bitten her tongue.

"Are you all right? What-?"

Tony was interrupted by Thor lifting her in his arms. She said nothing-embarrassment held her in check. Placing tentative weight on the ground, she held onto Thor's hand, which he kept around her midsection.

"All right," Tony shook his head, "start talking."

Thor helped her to sit on a chair facing Tony, who stared at her inquisitively.

"Thor, you first."

He stared at her solemnly and nodded. "I've come to warn you."

Cassie found that she was only half listening. The rain that had soaked her clothes seemed more pressing.

"Warn me about what?" she asked, ringing the bottom half of her shirt onto the floor.

"Cassie."

Something in his voice caused her to look up, and she saw the worry in his eyes.

"Jack's looking for you."

All the color drained from her face, and she stared at him as though she didn't understand. "Jack? Why? What would he want with me?"

Thor said nothing for a moment before shaking his head. "I don't know."

Despite the reasoning for coming to the complex in the first place-to get her key and leave-Tony had insisted that she stay. Thor had agreed, leaving her outnumbered. At least she had a space here that she used when necessary.

Now she lounged on the couch, feeling clean for the first time in days, and half watched a movie on the TV. Cassie did her best to keep her thoughts from drifting to Stephen. She would have no way of knowing if something had happened to him or not. The more she thought about it, however, the more anxious she became.

"Hey."

Bolting upright, Cassie spilled the bowl of popcorn in her lap as she locked eyes with Steve. "Hi."

He stood in the doorway, hands shoved into his jean pockets as he leaned against the frame, trying to smile at her.

"So, um, I'm glad you're safe," he shrugged, dropping his eyes to the floor. "And back."

"Thank you." She let out a shaky breath, staring at the wall beside him.

"I, uh, was worried about you. I mean you and Wanda."

He stepped away from the door and came to sit in one of the chairs that faced the couch. Trying to ignore the wild beating of her heart, Cassie noticed that he looked rather unchanged. Dark blond hair falling over his forehead and down the back of his neck. Facial hair trimmed into a beard.

"So," he continued, clearing his throat, "tell me about the adventures you had."

For a moment, she said nothing. This had been her best friend. She and Steve had shared everything. From picnic dates to fighting side by side, he'd been the one she'd relied on. But now, he seemed like a stranger.

Ignoring the urge to tell him how she felt, how she had missed him, she nodded. "It'll take a while," she mumbled sheepishly.

Pointing to the spilled popcorn, he grinned: "Then I better refill that bowl."


	29. Chapter 29

Wanda sighed in frustration and lowered her gloved hands, clenching them into fists at her sides.

"I have it," she grumbled. "I can see it in my mind—feel it—but I just _can't get there_."

Watching her with equal impatience, Janet shifted restlessly. "Maybe I can."

The girl turned with her brows raised. "What are you suggesting?"

"Telepathic transfer. Show me what you're seeing."

Maximoff considered her for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "All right. Fine."

Taking a deep breath, she sat down and assumed a crosslegged position. Janet followed suit, casting an uneasy glance around the empty alleyway. Wanda closed her eyes, and so did she, Stephen's Cloak hovering around her shoulders as she opened her mind to the mystical energies of the universe. The girl's aura burned like a candle in the night, its flame one that had been tamed and remained under tight control. But it was not invulnerable to the wind that threatened to upset its fragile balance.

Janet recognized that struggle—that danger. The line they both walked between light and darkness was a narrow one, and she was surprised to find that Maximoff was not as immune to temptation as she had first believed.

The doors of Wanda's mind stood open, ready to share the information Janet needed, but she could still sense the girl's uncertainty—her distrust. Neither of them had any faith in the other. Just a few hours prior, Maximoff had blamed her for a murder she had not committed, and they had nearly parted ways. But now? Now the fate of everyone and everything they loved was at stake, and only by working together did they stand a chance of saving them.

Janet sucked in a sharp breath as a hazy image started to take shape in her mind's eye. White mist. Strange rock formations. A black sky. And cold. Intense, penetrating cold. The same cold that had tormented her since the day the Terrigen Crystals had shattered.

She opened her eyes with a gasp, the connection broken.

"Well?" asked Wanda. "Do you recognize it? Do you know how to get there?"

Janet nodded slowly, repressed memories rising to the surface. "Yeah. I think I do."

She stood and faced the wall on her left. Extending her left arm in front of her chest, she began moving the other in a counterclockwise circle. Janet focused her mind on what she had seen and what she had felt, picturing every detail she had managed to discern—and there had not been many. If only she had one of those Sling Rings that Stephen wore, she thought, opening an inter-dimensional gateway would be much easier.

At last, violet sparks crackled into existence. Spinning and shimmering, the circular path they followed grew steadily wider until the portal became large enough for a person to easily step through. A dark plain was visible just beyond it.

"That's it," Wanda breathed in amazement. "How did you—?"

"I've been there once before," Janet answered without looking at her. "Come on. Let's go."

Without hesitation, she entered the gateway, and Wanda followed her. A second later, her boots touched rocky ground. Bone-chilling air collided with her face and stole the breath from her lungs. Janet shivered, and she felt the Cloak hug her shoulders more tightly than before. With Stephen's help, she'd learned a new spell that she had used to transform her black gown into a suit that would be far more practical for combat. But unfortunately, it did little to protect her from the cold.

Glancing to her right, Janet realized that Wanda was doubled over with her hands on her knees. "Hey. You okay?"

"This place…feels like death. I thought… I thought Shadow City was as bad as it could get. But this? This is worse."

Janet's exhale emerged as a small cloud. "This was a mistake. I should have come here alone. Places like this aren't meant for people like you."

"No," Wanda objected, straightening. "I'm not leaving—not until we've stopped what's coming."

"Do you want to end up like Cassie? She almost _died._ "

Maximoff's expression hardened with stubborn determination. "I'm seeing this through, no matter what it takes."

"Fine," Janet conceded. "Just remember that I gave you a chance to walk away, and you refused to take it."

With that, she turned and started striding briskly across the barren plain.

"Yeah, you gave me a chance all right," Wanda scoffed as she pursued her. "You gave me a chance to get out of your way so that you can finally join forces with Jack. This is all part of your plan, isn't it?"

"Of course," Janet replied disdainfully. "That's why Thor, who was under the influence of my brother, tried to kill me. Makes perfect sense."

There was a pause, and she hoped that Wanda had decided to give up this line of questioning. Because as much as sheer adrenaline and her desire to save Stephen were driving her forward, her physical exhaustion was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. She had not been allowed a single moment of rest since the masquerade party at Sinué Tower, and Janet guessed that if she were still in Shadow City, it would be dawn soon.

If there could be a dawn in a place without a sun.

"What happened back there—with Thor?" Wanda questioned, finally breaking the silence. "You… Well, you look different."

Janet stopped and faced her with a raised eyebrow. "I _look_ different?"

"Yeah," she nodded, pointing at her hair.

More perplexed than ever, Janet glanced down and started. Nearly three inches of her black locks had turned snow white. She grasped them between her fingers in utter disbelief. Swallowing hard, Janet met Maximoff's curious gaze, then abruptly turned her back on her and resumed walking.

"I think my hair is the least of our worries right now."

"Whatever you say," Wanda responded doubtfully.

Those were the last words they exchanged for some time. Trudging along, Janet surveyed the bizarre rock formations that floated against a black starless sky. She had sworn to herself that she would make every effort to never return to this desolate wasteland. This eternal void. And yet, here she was again—for the exact same reason.

Stephen.

Two years ago, when Jack had tried to kill him, she had accidentally opened several rifts in space and time—gateways to this dark dimension. Norman Osborn had fallen through one of them just before she had, and then they had both found themselves trapped here. That was when Janet had made a decision that haunted her to this day.

Taking advantage of her enhanced powers and Norman's separation from the Darkhold, she had killed him and left him to rot. She had been so furious, felt so betrayed, and his confessions regarding her father had been final catalyst.

Part of her still couldn't believe that she had done it, and she half expected to pass by his green goblin-like corpse if they walked long enough. She could still see those lifeless, bloodshot eyes staring up at her.

"Look!"

Wanda's voice startled her from her thoughts, and Janet blinked. The waist-high mist they were wading through had nearly concealed it from her view, but now she saw it—the yawning mouth of an enormous cave. If she had wandered just a few steps farther, she might have fallen into its endless darkness.

"This is it," Wanda said beside her. "This is the place."

Janet nodded. "I think so too, but I can't tell if Stephen's here. He isn't trying to contact me, and I don't like what that might mean."

"Jack has probably taken measures to prevent that very thing. Don't worry. He knows that if he wants to get to Cassie, having Stephen as his prisoner—alive—is one of the most reliable ways to do it."

Wanda's words gave Janet some small bit of comfort as she took a deep breath and ventured onto the narrow, steeply slanting path that led down into the abyss. He was alive. Stephen was _alive_. And she _would_ find him.

Fingers sliding along the wall of solid rock on her right, Janet made slow but steady progress. Dizziness assailed her, and she found herself blinking constantly in a vain attempt to clear her vision. Her aching muscles screamed for her to stop and rest, but she pushed on.

Janet didn't know how long they had been making their dangerous descent when one of her legs suddenly buckled beneath her. She pitched forward and tumbled down the slope as Wanda cried out in alarm.

Finally, the ground leveled out enough for her momentum to slow, and she rolled to a stop. Groaning, Janet managed to push herself up onto her elbows. Her cheek was smeared with dirt, her body bruised and sore.

"Are you all right?" Wanda exclaimed, having rushed to her side.

Janet grimaced. "Yeah. I guess… I guess those spells took more out of me than I thought."

"Come on," Wanda said, pulling her to her feet. "We can make it."

Glancing down, Janet realized that the Cloak was dusting off her shoulders and that her fall must have taken even it by surprise. "Sorry," she mumbled apologetically.

Something drew Wanda's attention, and she turned away, gazing into the darkness below. "Do you hear that?"

Janet's brow furrowed as she listened. There was something. An eldritch screech. A blood-curdling cackle. A multitude rising from the deep.

Wanda gave a quiet gasp as a legion of shadows came forth and swarmed toward them. Horrors with red glowing eyes and grinning mouths. Janet braced herself and tried to summon some sort of defense, but she didn't have much left to give. Wanda fired several blasts of scarlet magic into the midst of the horde, and just before it reached them, a white dome formed over their heads. Every muscle in Janet's body strained, her face screwed tight with concentration as the fiends bombarded her barrier.

"You can't hold them back forever!" Wanda shouted over the frenzy. "We have to fight!"

"There are too many of them!" Janet yelled back. "We're only going to get one shot at this. We need to hit them hard—then _run!_ "

"Run? I'm not—"

"You're right," Janet cut her off. "We're not leaving."

She glanced pointedly downward, and Wanda followed her gaze. Realization dawned in her eyes.

"I'll hold them back as long as I can," Janet told her. "When the barrier goes, give them all you've got!"

She saw Wanda take a deep breath and close her eyes. Janet's extended arms began to shake, her teeth grinding together as she fought to hold back the shades. Wanda's hands moved in swift gestures, energy crackling between her fingers.

"Get ready to jump!" she warned.

"When?"

"Now!" Wanda cried.

The dome vanished, and Janet dove into the darkness. She heard Wanda scream as she unleashed an explosion of deadly energy, and if Janet had jumped a second later, it would have hit her too. Her ears rang with the shrieks of dying demons, freezing air rushing against her face as she made her rapid descent.

Now she reluctantly tapped into her umbrakinetic powers so that she would know when she was nearing the ground. The Cloak billowed behind her, clinging loyally to her shoulders, and Janet couldn't help but think how far the two of them had come since their incident on the quinjet two years ago.

Thunderous cracks sounded high above her. She twisted and saw the cliffs collapsing in on them, Wanda plunging toward her.

"Almost there!" she called.

Wanda nodded in acknowledgement, and Janet faced the quickly approaching ground once more. She could see it now—and the large, cavernous opening that would serve as their escape route.

"Through there!" she pointed, hoping Wanda could still see and hear her.

They were engulfed in complete blackness now, and as they reached the level of the entrance, the Cloak took action. Janet's path arced and then leveled out. Flying into the passage beyond, she glided down and landed on the solid surface. Wanda came in behind her, scarlet magic streaming from her hands as she slowed her momentum and then touched down.

There was a deep rumble, the ground trembling with the impact of crashing rocks that were piling on top of each other. In a matter of seconds, they formed a mountain so high that the cave's exit was entirely blocked.

"Well," Janet said as silence fell, "looks like our only way out is forward."


	30. Chapter 30

The evening was pleasant for Cassie-shopping for a trinket to take home to AJ. Her pale blue dress flirted above her knees, and she clutched the camera bag at her side. Her one day off. She found herself missing the feeling of AJ's fingers around hers and hoped he would have time to call her that night.

There was a rumble like an earthquake, and everything changed.

Cassie hadn't remembered cracking her head on the pavement. There was a swirl of colors and sound. She could see nothing except the world contorting around her in shapes of unnatural proportions. Trying to scream was futile. She couldn't hear her own thoughts, much less her voice.

Pain spread through every single cell in her body, and she began to writhe as it twisted her unnaturally, her lungs burning. Cassie didn't even have time to contemplate that she was about to die. Her every thought was consumed by the pain that produced red fireworks behind her closed lids.

And then suddenly, there he was. The world was restored for a brief moment as a stranger knelt over her, his shadow causing her eyes to open. His curls were pushed back on his forehead by the sweat that rolled over his skin.

Cassie tried to scream and pull away, to retreat from this maddening world. But this stranger held her wrists firmly. Kicking up, she hit him in the stomach and turned to crawl away. Her body had no energy left, and she heaved, emptying the contents of her lunch onto the street and collapsing in a heap. The blood trickled down her head and into her mouth, and she coughed, curling into a ball.

"I can help you," the man murmured, meeting her terrified gaze.

"Who are you?"

"Stephen Strange."

Suddenly, the world went dark, and she heard his voice against the stark contrast of nothing. Stephen was saying Janet's name, but he was surrounded by emptiness. The sound reached only her-and only in her dream.

Cassie sat up in the bed, sweat causing her clothes to stick to her body and matting down her hair. Climbing gingerly from the bed, she placed her socked feet on the floor and stood on shaky legs. There came a hesitant knock on the door, and Cassie let her eyes flit over to it in the darkness. Moonlight waved back and forth over the floor through the slit in the curtains.

"Cassie?"

That was Tony. Letting the door swing open, Cassie found him standing there.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up." She rubbed her arm uncomfortably.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Tony nodded, letting himself in and flicking on the light.

Cassie ignored him and cast her eyes down to the floor.

"Can I get you anything?" Tony asked, sitting on her bed.

"Um, no. I'm fine," she muttered, pulling her gaze from the floor and retreating to the wall, leaning against it and staring at him.

"Listen," Tony began, "I know from experience that it helps to talk about it. PTSD is serious stuff, okay? Let us help."

Cassie wrinkled her nose. "I don't have PTSD."

Tony raised an eyebrow and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay. Fine. If you don't want to talk, that's fine."

He ran a hand through his dark hair and waited for her expectantly.

"I'm serious, Tony," she said, shaking her head. "I'm fine."

Tony stood and crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a pointed look.

"I'm fine," she repeated uncomfortably.

"So you said."

"So go," she shrugged.

He did as she asked, shaking his head as he left. The door snapped shut, and Cassie sank to the floor where she stood and put both hands to her head. Where was Stephen that he couldn't reach Janet? Was he okay?

It was shattering her from the inside out that she couldn't help him, and that it was her fault he was in danger in the first place. What did Jack want with her anyway?

Cassie stood and moved to her dresser drawer, where she found the tape she used on her knuckles. Wrapping them tightly, Cassie walked to the punching bag still hanging from the ceiling of her room. Each thud of her skin hitting the cloth was a release of the frustration that burned through her chest.

The pounding of her heart would not subside, and Cassie felt her head begin to swim. Unintentionally, she stumbled backwards and crashed hard onto the floor, head lolling to the side. Her chest heaved with each labored breath, and stars swam before her eyes.

Residual effects. That's what Loki had said. He had said that she may experience symptoms for days.

Pulling herself up, Cassie moved to her bedside table and called Tony's number on her phone. Before she even said a word, his voice answered her silent question.

"I'm coming."

He opened her door without a knock and came to her side where she sat on the floor, back against her bed. Neither of them said a word. Tony lowered himself beside her and wrapped his arm around her. Tears flowed down her cheeks freely, and she began to sob against his chest. His chin on her head, he held her comfortingly.

"I used to dream that I would lose Pepper," he spoke into the silence. "She would die in front of me-again and again. There was nothing I could do. Then too were the nightmares where I died without getting to explain why. When-when I took that bomb through the portal, and everything started going dark...all I could see was her face."

Cassie sniffled slightly, and he rubbed her shoulder.

"For months, I was haunted by that. Little did I know that it was only the beginning. But Pepper... She was there for me. Through every..." He paused, and she looked up at him with cautious eyes.

"Through every breakdown," he continued. "Through every panic attack. Through every nightmare. Pepper was my rock. Even when I felt like I was putting her at risk, and I told her to leave me, she didn't. She was there because she wanted to be. Whatever you've been through, Cassie, we'll stand by you. Stephen isn't where he is by chance. He's been protecting you since he met you, and he'll continue to do so."

Releasing a shuddery breath, Cassie nodded.

"If you want to talk about your dream, or anything that happened over there, I'll listen. If you don't, that's okay too."

His heartbeat was steady, unlike hers, which pounded against her chest.

"I-I don't know," she murmured without looking up at him.

"That's okay. You don't have to explain. I get it. Stephen will be okay, Cassie. So will Wanda and Janet."

"You don't know that," she whispered in a tight voice, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes.

"I know them," he reassured her. "And they don't give up easily."

IIIIIIIIII

Her bare feet felt cool against the grass as she buried her toes amongst the blades. The sky was blue, and it seemed almost strange to see the sun again. It had been so dark...

Standing suddenly, Cassie shoved her hands into her white sweatshirt and kicked at a clot of dirt. Each hour seemed to pass endlessly. The red watch on her wrist seemed stuck. Desperation clouded her thoughts momentarily, and she knew she couldn't leave Stephen to...whatever fate Jack had planned.

Moving her hands the way he had taught her, she attempted to open a portal to Shadow City.

"Running away?"

Cassie lowered her hands to her sides and glanced over her shoulder at Steve. "Excuse me?"

He sighed and shook his head, staring disappointedly at her. "You never change."

Now she spun and tilted her head to the side, licking her lips before taking a slow breath.

"Oh," she finally said with a nod. "I see now. America's golden boy is here. And he's going to set me straight-help little defenseless me."

Steve furrowed his brow but said nothing.

"You think you know everything," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You don't. I'm not running away, Steve. I'm running to the fight. How can I let Stephen take what's meant for me?"

Her voice trailed off as she turned from him and ran a hand through her hair. "How can I let Stephen suffer at Jack's hands when it's me that he wants? Is that fair? Is that right?"

Steve stared at her intensely for a moment. "I get it," he finally said.

She scoffed and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow before it set in. "Bucky," she realized, giving a tight nod.

"Exactly," he said. "But, Cassie, listen-"

"You are not my boyfriend, or whatever it was you called yourself when you were with me," she said, pointing her finger at him. "Steve, you aren't even my captain. My allegiance lies with myself, and I'll do with it what I please."

He dropped his gaze and shoved his hands into his pockets. "You don't have a plan or anything-gonna take on Jack in your sweats." He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

She said nothing and waited, taking a deep breath. Somewhere in the grass, a frog croaked, and her gaze faltered for a moment.

"Oh," he sighed. "You weren't going to fight."

She squirmed slightly under his intense gaze but shook her head.

"You think that's what Stephen would want?" Steve asked softly. "For you to die? Jack will kill you, or worse."

"I know that," she scoffed, rubbing her bare foot over the grass. "What do you want from me? What am I supposed to do?"

He moved forward and looked down into her face.

"What if we found an alternate plan?" His voice was soft now, pleading. "Where we got both of you back here alive?"

She shook her head doubtfully. "Steve, I don't think that plan exists-"

"Then we'll make one."

He took her hands in his, and she met his gaze.

"You don't have to do this alone."

She waited a moment and closed her eyes. Her trust felt broken, and yet, this was the same man she loved.

"And...maybe we could talk about something," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

Cassie furrowed her brow inquisitorially.

"I missed you," he murmured with a smile.

For a moment, Cassie wasn't sure what to say. Her mouth hung open, and she held his gaze.

"What do you say to letting me take you on a second first date?"

With a smile, she nodded, and he squeezed her hands gently. "I missed you too."

"So you'll trust me?" he asked. "You won't sacrifice yourself?"

"Not yet."


	31. Chapter 31

One foot in front of the other—that was what Janet kept telling herself. They had been walking for what felt like hours but had gotten nowhere. They had seen no sign of Stephen—no sign of Jack. The air was cold and silent, the labyrinth of caves as black as the void. Their only saving grace was her night vision. Without it, they might as well have been blind.

But her continuous use of it placed additional stress on her already fatigued mind and body, and Wanda was faring no better. Janet glanced back every now and then and saw her following with heavy, clumsy steps, one hand always sliding along the wall of the passage.

Until there was no wall.

Janet stopped, realizing that they had entered a vast cavern with stalactites threatening from above and stalagmites jutting from the ground. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the clattering of a small stone as Wanda drew alongside her. A hair-raising chill ran down her spine.

"You feel it too?" Wanda asked quietly.

Janet nodded. "We're not alone."

Cautiously, she advanced, her eyes darting left and right. She could only see so far in this penetrating darkness, and it was what she couldn't see that frightened her. Janet considered conjuring some light to illuminate her path, but was it worth exposing her position to an enemy who might be unaware of her presence? She decided that it wasn't, and Wanda followed her example.

Her heart thumped wildly, adrenaline pumping through her veins as they carefully made their way toward the far side of the cavern. The rotting stench of death invaded her nostrils, and Janet grimaced. Something was definitely down here, and it had killed. Recently.

Footsteps thudded to her right, running swiftly past her. She spun with a gasp but saw nothing. Wanda's eyes were wide with fear, her clenched fists held at chest level in anticipation of an attack. Janet turned back around and found a pair of pale yellow eyes watching them. She stared back, her breath catching inside her chest.

" _Ah!_ "

Janet whirled just in time to see dark tendrils dragging Wanda away by her ankles. Her fingers briefly clawed at the earth before she twisted and blindly flung a broad band of scarlet magic behind her. The Cloak abandoned Janet's shoulders as she ran to assist Wanda, launching itself at some unseen threat. But Janet was suddenly captured by a pair of supernaturally strong arms. She struggled violently, kicking and punching, but then a sharp pain flared at the back of her skull. Her arms and legs fell limp, her head lolling.

Then everything went black.

IIIIIIIIII

Voices faded in and out of her consciousness. She was floating—drifting along without purpose, without direction. Why was everything so dark?

Finally, Janet's eyes flickered open. Her thoughts were scattered and confused, and all she could see was a blurred mass of light and shadow. Where was she? And why couldn't she remember what had happened to her?

A black shape knelt in front of her, and she could almost make out a face.  
"Welcome back to the land of the living, sis."

"Jack?" Janet croaked, blinking as she desperately tried to clear her vision.

"Took you long enough to get here," he replied irritably. "I gave that witch a _direct_ road map, and _still_ —" He stopped and shook his head in frustration. "Never mind that. You're here now. No more delays. No more wasted time."

"Where…where's Stephen?"

As Jack's features slowly came into focus, she saw him sneer.

"I'm here."

Her heart leaped inside her chest. Jack rose and stepped aside, revealing Stephen's suspended form. He was frozen in place, black liquid-like bonds encircling his wrists and ankles. There was blood on his right temple, and his left cheek was badly bruised. Locks of displaced hair fell over his forehead, his remorseful gaze offering her a silent apology.

Between them stood two pedestals. The Eye of Agamotto sat atop one, and on the other—the _Darkhold_. The chamber was lit by sickly green torches that burned on strangely carved columns, and eight hooded figures formed an ominous ring around their prisoners. Two of them stood behind Janet, and two more guarded Wanda, ensuring that neither of them made any attempt to escape.

"It's fortunate that I foresaw your presence here would be necessary, because _Stephen_ ," Jack spat, jabbing a finger at him, "has refused to remove the spell that is preventing me from using the Time Stone. Perhaps…with you here, he will be more compliant."

"Time is not something to be meddled with, Jack!" Janet scolded. "Whatever you're planning to do, if the _Darkhold_ is involved, it's not going to go the way you think."

" _You_ are in _chains_ , Janet. You fear your powers. You fear what you're capable of. I don't. The _Darkhold_ has given me the ability to wield the Darkforce as a weapon, just as you do. And once Chthon is free, there is _nothing_ I won't be able to accomplish."

" _Chthon?_ "

"Creator of the _Darkhold_ ," Stephen explained gravely. "One of the Elder Gods who fell into darkness and was banished from the Earth."

"Is _that_ what Norman was trying to do?" she realized, horrified. " _Free_ an ancient entity that we know nothing about? That we can't control?"

"When he returns to claim his rightful place as ruler of this world, _I_ will be at his right hand," Jack said with a smile. "Join us, Janet, and you can stand beside me. _We_ will be respected and admired—worshipped even! We're not like them, Janet—the weak fools who try to tame us—because they know that when we discover our true potential, their time will end, and we will usher in a new era. Humanity will evolve— _ascend_. Just like we always dreamed."

" _You_ left me!" she burst, overcome with rage. "You left me to die! And in Shadow City, you sent Thor to—"

" _Thor_ was going to bring you here, but he knew that you wouldn't come willingly. You needed to be subdued first. But _you_ —you tamed the God of Thunder. And I knew then that you were truly a force to be reckoned with."

"You used Blastaar!" she shot back. "You enabled his senseless bloodshed. He's killed _hundreds_ of innocent people! Why would you ally yourself with a monster like him?"

"He's trying to prove himself," Stephen interjected. "Chthon is a demon of chaos and destruction. He seeks servants who are willing to kill for him."

"Chthon seeks the strong," Jack countered. "Those who cannot survive do not deserve to live. Fight or die. That is the way of the world."

"I used to tell myself that," Janet admitted, "when Norman would send me on one of his 'assignments.' But there is so much more to life than just surviving."

Her gaze drifted back to Stephen's, and Jack gave a snarl of disgust.

"Really?" he challenged. "Let's put that to the test then, shall we?"

He extended his hand toward her, and she instinctively stiffened as she began to feel an unnatural gravitational pull. It was like she was being ripped apart from the inside, every atom pried from its place. Janet grimaced as she strained and struggled to resist.

" _Break_ the spell," Jack demanded, "or she will suffer."

"You don't have to do this," Stephen tried. "Think of the consequences. Think of the chaos that will be unleashed upon the world."

Jack closed his fist, his gaze hardening, and as she silently pleaded with him—begged him to release her—she realized that she no longer recognized the man looking back at her. His gray eyes had grown cold and relentless, his once handsome face marred by black veins.

"Chthon is using you!" Stephen persisted with increasing desperation. "You are nothing more than a puppet to him. Don't trade one cruel master for another!"

An anguished cry tore from her throat, every inch of her feeling like it had been dipped in molten lava.

"All right—stop!" Stephen entreated, hanging his head in defeat. "I'll…I'll do it. Just, please…stop."

Janet slumped forward, gasping for breath, and Jack slowly lowered his hand. Completely unaffected by the agony he had just imposed upon his sister, he turned to Stephen.

"Well, I'm waiting."

"I can't do it from here," Stephen replied. "I…I need my hands."

Janet twisted her wrists and pushed against the strange energy cuffs that bound her own hands behind her back as Jack reluctantly released Stephen with a mere gesture. He hit the stone hard, and she had to consciously refrain from rushing to his aid. This was a nightmare—one that she didn't know if they would be able to find a way out of.

But she was going to try.

Wincing as he got to his feet, Stephen limped toward the pedestal that held the Eye of Agamotto. He looked at Janet, and she shook her head. Whatever Jack was planning would certainly end in disaster. He couldn't be allowed to alter the course of time on such a scale—no matter what.

Slowly, Stephen raised his trembling hands in front of his chest. Jack watched him warily, ready to thwart him at a moment's notice. Stephen's fingers moved through a series of gestures, and the Eye began to levitate. A field of golden magic rippled over its surface, and then he blinked, hesitating for the briefest of moments. Janet's heart beat so hard against her chest that she could scarcely breathe.

Stephen's hands suddenly sprang into action once more—then jerked and became still. His body was completely immobilized, his eyes wide with fear and anger.

"Really?" Jack mocked. "You're even more of a fool than I thought, _Stephen Strange_. Truly, I can't understand what Janet ever saw in you."

"Let him go, Jack!" she demanded. "I'm the one you want. I'm the one who's been interfering with your plans."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, dear sister. Unfortunately, both of you have become rather persistent thorns in my side—thorns that can no longer be ignored. And if this _silly_ infatuation of yours has blinded you so completely that you fail to see the advantages of joining me, then…I am left with no choice."

"You _always_ have a choice!"

"You think that love will save you?" he snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously in the darkness. "It won't. It will destroy you—just as it destroyed our mother. And only now, when it's too late, will you finally realize it."

He glared at Stephen with such hatred that absolute terror seized her.

" _Please—_ "

"Tell me where Cassie Powell is," Jack roared, "or he dies!"

Tears spilled down Janet's cheeks. Stephen's eyes implored her to remain silent. But she couldn't—not when his life was at stake.

"She's with the Avengers."

The moment Janet made her confession, her heart grew heavy and sank like a stone. Jack had forced her hand. He had forced her to choose. And the truth was, when it came down to it, she would always choose Stephen.

Satisfied, Jack savored the pain that tortured their faces. "And now you see what love has wrought."

He stepped forward, removing the Eye of Agamotto from the pedestal and placing it around his neck. "The Time Stone in my grasp. The _Darkhold_ in my hands. And Cassie… Well, she will have the privilege of fulfilling her final purpose."

"What do you want with her?" Wanda demanded furiously.

He smiled. "Why concern yourself with a future that is inevitable? Cassie's fate is sealed, and you and Strange will spend the rest of your miserable lives bound to this place."

" _What?_ " Janet cried.

"Don't sound so surprised, sis," Jack taunted. "I never planned to kill him. No… That would've been far too easy, and I need to know that I have you on my side. I must admit that I'd hoped you would join me willingly."

"Jack, _stop!_ Don't do this!"

But he was already snatching Stephen's wrist and drawing a dagger. Paralyzed, there was nothing Stephen could do but watch as Jack slit the palm of his right hand. His blood dripped onto the open pages of the _Darkhold_ , and then Jack ordered the cultists guarding Wanda to bring her to him.

Janet frantically tried to think of a plan, but there was nothing she could do. She was already weakened by exhaustion, and somehow, the manacles on her wrists were restricting her powers even further. She looked on, utterly helpless as Wanda's blood stained the ancient pages. Then Jack began speaking in a tongue she didn't recognize. But Janet knew that it must be the lost language of the _Darkhold_ , and Jack was speaking his curse into existence.

As his hands formed a series of strange symbols, their blood rose from the pages and mingled with tendrils of black magic. Wanda winced, and Stephen grimaced, dark marks appearing on the backs of their bleeding hands. Then Stephen's wrists were bound behind him once more, and Jack brought him before Janet. He forced him to kneel, and she looked at Stephen through tear-filled eyes.

"Their souls are mine now," Jack said, reveling in his power. "If they ever attempt to leave the Darkforce Dimension, they will die. If you refuse to follow my orders, I will end their lives with a single word."

"I'm sorry," she choked, hardly listening to what her brother was saying.

"Janet, my life means nothing when weighed against the lives of trillions," Stephen told her. "You have to let me go. Save Cassie. Prevent the summoning of Chthon."

"You couldn't let me go," she countered in a trembling voice.

"Be better than me. Guard the Sanctum. Protect Earth. Be humanity's defender. They need you—now more than ever."

"I…I can't."

His gaze softened, and she marveled at how, even in the midst of all this, he remained so calm.

"Why?" he asked softly.

"Because…" she stopped and swallowed hard. "Because he's right. And I should've told you sooner."

"Janet—"

" _Please._ Just…promise me that you'll remember me as I was. Not as the monster I became."

"Janet!"

But they were already hauling her to her feet, and Jack was opening a portal. Four cultists stayed behind to guard their prisoners, and four followed their leader. There was a hand between her shoulder blades, guiding her through the gateway, but she could see nothing that lay before her. Nothing beyond the veil of her own tears.


	32. Chapter 32

Cassie walked groggily through the complex, grabbing a banana off the counter and collapsing against the couch. One of the screens mounted to the wall was playing CNN, and Cassie groped for the remote to shut it off.

"Maybe somebody was watching that?" A voice arose from the other couch as the power winked out.

Cassie blinked, and it took her a moment to register Clint's voice. "Oh-I-sorry!"

He grinned and tossed a throw pillow at her, which slammed into her face. Hurling it back in his direction, she let out a yelp as it hit the coffee table instead, sending his cup of coffee spilling onto the floor.

"Oh, smooth," Clint laughed with a shake of his head.

At that moment, Pepper walked in, and both she and Clint fell silent.

"You two are as bad as Tony," she sighed, putting down her laptop and picking up the paper towel roll on the counter. She tossed it to Clint. "Clean it up, please?"

He gave her a two-finger salute and then handed the paper towels to Cassie.

"Come on," she whined. "That was like half your fault."

"It was not," he argued. "Besides, I was here first."

Cassie rolled her eyes and crawled down to the floor in her pajamas, mopping up his spilled coffee.

"Cassie?"

Looking up as Steve entered the room, she dropped the coffee-stained paper towels and grinned. His stern face caused her smile to fall, and she stood. "What's the matter?"

He didn't answer right away, so she left the mess and came to his side, putting her hand on his arm. Since he was still dressed in his pajamas too-a white long-sleeved t-shirt and black sweatpants-she wondered what could've already happened.

"Hey," Clint argued, "are you leaving me with the mess?"

She ignored him, prodding Steve silently.

"Janet's here," he finally said, looking off to the side.

Cassie didn't understand why he was upset-that was great news. Steve lowered his gaze, and she ran a hand through her hair.

"Where? I don't under-" The realization hit her. "Just Janet?"

Even Clint forgot the mess as he stood, and Pepper abandoned her work to come to their side. With a heavy swallow, Cassie stepped backward and dropped her gaze.

"Where's Wanda? Where's Stephen?"

Steve touched her hand gently and then wrapped her fingers in his. "I don't know. She just said she wants to talk to you."

"Where is she?"

"With Tony. Out front."

Staring at her bare feet, Cassie struggled to move for a moment. If Janet was here alone, well...that couldn't be good.

"Come on," Steve urged, giving her wrist a tug.

Clint nudged her shoulder, and Cassie swallowed her fears and looked up, following Steve silently through the complex. Pepper walked briskly behind them, obviously anxious herself. They rounded a corner, and Cassie could see Tony messing with a watch in his hand. He spoke, however, to Janet, who leaned casually against the wall.

"Janet." Cassie's voice came out tighter than she'd wanted.

Tony raised his eyes and met Pepper's, giving a shrug to indicate he knew nothing.

"I need to talk to you." Janet moved forward, facing Cassie with her brow furrowed and her eyes focused intently.

"What happened to you?" Cassie asked in shock, trying to keep her eyes level with Janet's.

"That's not important." Janet shook her head.

"Where's Stephen?" Cassie couldn't hold back the question that was burning her throat.

"He's okay," she smiled. "That's what I've come to talk to you about. I want to take you to see him."

All of the worry melted off of Cassie's shoulders, and she released Steve's hand, not realizing that she'd been digging her fingernails into his skin. Pepper smiled at Tony, who was still watching Janet warily.

"Where is he?" Cassie smiled, running both hands over her head in relief.

"Just come with me, and I'll show you."

Cassie didn't hesitate to follow Janet as she moved toward the outside of the complex. Before she could, however, Steve caught her wrist. She turned back to him in surprise and noted the worry in his eyes.

"Cassie, I don't know-"

"Steve," she grinned, "Stephen's here. I've got to go help him."

"But with Jack out there-" Steve began hesitantly.

"Your boyfriend doesn't want you to go alone," Tony smirked.

"She won't be alone." Janet let her smile fall slightly, looking hurt. "She's with me."

Steve lowered his voice, and Cassie met his eyes. "I just want you to be careful."

Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his cheek, and he smiled weakly, his blond hair falling onto his forehead.

"I'll be with Janet, and it'll be fine. She can handle Jack." Cassie looked confidently over to Janet, who gave her a thin smile.

Letting his fingers cup her face, Steve sighed. "I don't know, Cass. What if-?" He paused. "Just be careful."

With a flutter of her heart, Cassie wrapped her arms around his neck as he leaned in to press his lips to hers.

"I love you," he whispered gently against her lips.

She grinned and kissed him again. Clint cleared his throat uncomfortably as he approached them from behind

"We really have to go, Cassie," Janet interrupted.

Cassie pulled back and smiled at Steve, letting her hands fall to his chest. "I love you too. I'll be back soon. I promise."

Steve brushed a short strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't make promises."

"I never know when you two are actually together." Tony shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest confidently. "Off and on and off and on."

Cassie followed Janet out of the complex, trying to suppress her grin. Her bare feet felt cool in the grass, and the sun was surprisingly warm for a spring that had been remarkably cold.

"I need to grab some shoes," Cassie muttered in a half daze.

A few minutes later, she was dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, converse on her feet, and following Janet through a portal. Her thoughts were so preoccupied that it was some time before Cassie actually looked up and wondered where they were going.

"Janet? Where is-?"

Janet abruptly cut her off. "Trust me, Cassie."

The phrase seemed strange, and Cassie paused for a moment, causing an extreme New York backup of pedestrians. A man yelled obscenities at her, but for some reason, Cassie now felt wary of Janet.

"Where are we going, though? Where's Stephen?"

People jostled her on each side, and Janet looked put-off as she grabbed Cassie's wrist.

"Come on, okay? We aren't far."

Ignoring the man whose cane hit her elbow, Cassie followed Janet down the street as the buildings became more and more familiar. When they rounded the corner and she saw the familiar sight, fear brought her to an abrupt halt. Oscorp's lonely facade stood just as it had the last time she was there. The gate's chain hung loosely on the ground, and the grass grew tall enough to hit her thighs.

"Stephen would _never_ ask me to meet him here," she whispered in shock.

"Cassie-"

Moving forward almost against her will, Cassie felt the fight or flight response taking over, and she whirled around to face Janet. The woman's dark hair floated loosely about her, and Cassie didn't even time to say anything to Janet before something hit her in the back of the head. Cassie crumpled against the concrete, the world winking out.

IIIIIIIIII

The pounding against her skull woke Cassie. Dim light surrounded her and made it difficult to see, and there was a chill that sent a shiver down her spine. Her arms were tightened against a chair, and her feet were chained. The blood that trickled down her neck made her cringe, and Cassie could feel a bruise forming on her forehead. As her eyes struggled to adjust, Cassie saw someone approach, and she scowled at Janet.

"What did you do?" she hissed.

Her own voice bounced back to her, and Cassie looked around, the familiar lobby of Oscorp empty. Jack stepped around Janet, and Cassie stopped breathing, her fingers clenching around the arms of the chair she was strapped in to.

"When the Eye opens, the blood of one touched by Time shall be spilled, and he who sleeps shall wake." Jack's voice was a soft whisper that caused her blood to run cold.

"I don't know what's going on. What do you mean 'the Eye'? Who-who's sleeping?" The tremble in her voice was an agonizing reminder of the fear she felt toward Jack.

As he stepped closer, he took Cassie's face in his hand, turning it toward his own. But she would not give him any satisfaction, and she kept her eyes lowered.

"Look at me, Cassie."

With a shaky breath, she brought her eyes up to his. Jack was weary-it was obvious in the dark circles and wrinkles around his eyes. He was scarred, and his once polished appearance now seemed fazed.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered desperately.

"When the Eye opens, the blood of one touched by Time shall be spilled, and he who sleeps shall wake," he repeated. "It's you, Cassie."

His fingers released her, and she pulled her head back, locking eyes with Janet. How could she do this? How could she betray her, Stephen, and everyone else?

"Where's Stephen?" Cassie croaked out.

"Ask Janet," Jack said as he turned his back to her, and a light flickered on somewhere above them.

Cassie could now see Jack's men surrounding the perimeter of the bare room. A pedestal stood to her right, and on it was Stephen's stone and the _Darkhold_. Janet stepped closer to her, and Cassie pleaded silently.

"Janet?" Jack's voice interrupted. "Here."

Janet hesitated, staring at Cassie, but she turned, looking at her brother.

"Take this, and do what needs to be done."

Jack held out a dagger. Cassie's heartbeat sped up. She was going to die-here-now. She'd promised Steve... She'd promised.

Janet only stared at Jack. She wasn't reaching out to take it.

"Jack-I-why don't you just-?"

"Don't forget what I have, Janet. Let's do this together now."

Cassie hardly heard what they were saying. Her blonde hair fell over her eyes as she tried to calm her breathing. Out of the corner of her eye, Cassie saw both Janet and Jack approaching her. Jack had the _Darkhold_ in his hand now, and he grinned at her.

Raising her eyes to Janet's, Cassie opened her trembling lips. "Janet, please don't-Stephen-"

"I'm doing this for Stephen," Janet cut her off, tightening her grip on the dagger that now rested in her hand.

Cassie closed her eyes and waited. One second. The whir of the knife cut through the air. Cassie's eyes popped open, and she watched Janet embed the knife into Jack's chest, his body falling onto the cold concrete.


	33. Chapter 33

Janet stared at the dagger in her hand, the same ebony blade that had been stained with Stephen's blood just two hours prior. She knew why Jack was asking her to do this. If she killed Cassie, Stephen would never forgive her. His love for her would die, and her heart would wither like a flower from whom the sun had turned its face away.

But wasn't Stephen's life worth more than his love? If she refused to do Jack's bidding, she would be sentencing Stephen to death, and she would never be able to live with herself. Either way, Janet realized that she was doomed to a miserable and isolated existence—a life of enslavement. First, her parents. Then Norman. And now her brother.

The cycle of control and manipulation had never been broken, and Jack, who had once been a victim of that vicious cycle, had become the perpetrator. All her life, Janet had sought escape from it—some light at the end of that endless tunnel. But now, it seemed that there might not be a way out after all.

Jack walked beside her as she approached Cassie, the _Darkhold_ lying open in his hands. Her heart pounded inside her ears, her legs trembling and threatening to buckle with each step she took. This was wrong. Cassie didn't deserve this. She was still so young and had so much life left to live.

But _Stephen_. She didn't have a choice—did she?

 _"You always have a choice."_

The words he had spoken to her on the Astral Plane rose from the depths of her subconscious and shattered her in an instant. The memory struck her with such sudden force that all breath was stolen from her lungs, and she looked at Cassie.

"Janet, please don't—Stephen—"

"I'm doing this for Stephen," Janet interrupted, her grip on the dagger growing so tight that her knuckles turned white.

Stephen, who would never want her to sacrifice the life of another in his stead. Stephen, who would never wish for her to further condemn her soul with the murder of yet another innocent. Stephen, who had sacrificed so much to protect this young woman from herself and from those who feared her.

The terror in Cassie's wide eyes took Janet back to a dark, sickly green room hundreds of feet below where she presently stood. Where Jack and Norman had gleefully watched her torture this poor girl for no other reason than to prove her loyalty to Oscorp and to Norman's twisted schemes. And now, here she was again, faced with a second choice. A second chance.

Cassie closed her eyes, appearing to accept the inevitability of her fate. Janet slowly raised the dagger, Jack standing a pace behind her. There was only one way—one way to save both Stephen and Cassie.

She took a shaky breath, gathering herself. _Do it. Do it now—before it's too late._

Janet spun sharply on her heel and plunged the knife into Jack's heart. He had dropped the _Darkhold_ and raised his arms in self-defense, but he had not realized her intent in time to save himself. She ripped the blade from his chest, spattering blood onto the book's open pages. Jack gaped at her in complete and utter shock as he clutched his hands over his heart and staggered backwards. He tried to catch himself against the nearby pedestal but collapsed, smearing blood over its stone surface as he slid down and hit the floor.

"Janet," he spluttered, weakly rolling onto his back.

She dropped the dagger and instinctively rushed to her brother's side. She no longer saw the monster—only the little boy who she had always done everything in her power to protect. Falling to her knees, Janet saw that his gray eyes were wide and frantically darting around the room, his white hands grabbing at hers with the desperation of a lost child.

"Janet—"

"I'm here," she assured him, grasping his blood-soaked fingers.

But he was looking past her, a strained breath rattling through his chest as he struggled to speak. "It's dark," he croaked. "It's all dark."

His hands fell limp, the life fading from his eyes.

"Jack," she choked, tears spilling down her cheeks. He didn't answer, and she shook him. "Jack!"

Janet began to tremble with pain so terrible that it threatened to tear her apart from the inside. A gaping hole had been ripped through her heart—a wound so deep, so profound, that she was sure she would die.

"Janet!"

Cassie's cry sounded as if it were traveling to her across a great gulf. It was little more than an echo, but something in her voice—the fear, the urgency—reawakened Janet to the world around her. She looked up from Jack's lifeless body and suddenly realized that the cultists were chanting. Their hands were moving in perfect unison, and they appeared to be casting some sort of spell.

She wheeled on Cassie and sliced through her bonds with a single gesture. "Go! Get out of here!"

"But—"

" _Now!_ "

Cassie flinched at the shrillness of her voice, but she finally obeyed. Janet watched her go, her chest heaving as the pressure inside her continued to build. She was bursting at the seams, and as she turned to face the cultists, her rage reached its boiling point. Her eyes burned with tears, her hands balling into fists at her sides. What had this world _not_ taken from her?

She looked down at Jack—saw his sad, blank stare—and something inside her snapped. The chains of her restraint were broken, and the cracks in her facade of control became chasms. The dam collapsed, and the floods rushed forth. There was only the storm now—the chaos.

The cultists fell silent and stepped back in dismay. But it was too late for them.

Janet let loose a savage scream, thrusting her arms outward and unleashing a shockwave of telekinetic energy that flung them against the walls like rag dolls. She blamed herself, blamed them, blamed everyone and everything. The floor shuddered beneath her feet, the lights flickering overhead. The cultists never rose to confront her. Instead, they were faced with imminent death as her wrath rent their bodies apart at a molecular level.

Two screamed, but the others simply stared with utter despair as their souls were banished to the plains of oblivion. They vanished in an instant—gone forever—just like Jack. Oscorp Tower rumbled around her, its structure fracturing as the room was bathed in the blood red light of the setting sun.

 _"You are mine now."_

"Get out!" Janet wailed, tears streaming down her face and her hands flying to the sides of her head.

 _"Do not struggle, child. Embrace what you are and what you have become. Know that I marked you the day you were born. You were chosen for this very moment—this destiny."_

There was no tower anymore. There was only a swirling cyclone of steel and glass. She could see nothing beyond the dark cloud of debris that engulfed her, but she could hear the screams of those who were affected by her ever-expanding disaster.

"Who are you?" she cried miserably. "Why are you doing this to me?"

 _"I am Chthon, and you will be my vessel in this world. Dormammu and so many others tried to steal you from me, but my plans cannot be thwarted."_

Sirens blared in the distance. Buildings crumbled and were drawn into the whirling mass. Janet saw the Eye of Agamotto pass in front of her face, its shell peeling away and revealing the shimmering stone inside. Hatred blazed inside her. She detested the thing, and she wanted nothing more than to erase it from existence.

But there was another being inside her now—an ancient entity that was fighting to impose his malevolent will upon her. And he wanted her to take the stone and use it.

"No," she whispered. "No…"

"Janet!"

She turned at the sound of a familiar voice.

 _"An enemy. Kill him,"_ Chthon commanded.

But she simply stood and watched the red-cloaked figure emerge from the mayhem. A fiery mandala shielded him as he advanced. His steps were slow but dogged, and he did not stop, even when a chunk of concrete slammed into his back.

 _"Kill him now!"_

Janet refused to move, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Stephen continued to fight his way forward, never lowering his guard until he came within a few feet of her. At last, the glowing runes faded, and he faltered as Darkforce energy relentlessly assailed him. But he reclaimed his balance and stood firm in the presence of death, resisting the annihilation that yearned to devour him.

She looked up into his desperate eyes, knowing that she had failed him—had failed her family—had failed humanity. Her efforts to achieve peace had only brought more madness into the world, and now she finally understood why. She had been an agent of chaos all along.

"Kill me," she begged him.

"No," Stephen refused with a stern shake of his head.

"Please! Stop me before I hurt anyone else! I know that you wanted to save me, Stephen, but you can't! No one can!"

"You're right," he said, taking another step closer. "I can't. I am not the master of your fate. You are. Only you can overcome the darkness inside you. But you must make the decision to fight it—here— _now_. I can't fight it for you, but I will fight it _with_ you."

Janet stared at him as his words sank in, slicing through the fog of lies and doubts that clouded her mind. A spark of hope ignited inside her. She wasn't alone—not even now, in her darkest hour.

Janet nodded, knowing that Stephen would recognize her gesture of consent, and closed her eyes. A moment later, she felt him press one palm against her forehead and the other over her heart. Behind her darkness of her lids, there was a blinding flash, and suddenly she was standing on a rocky precipice. Before her lay a vast lake with a still, glassy surface, and in it, she could see the reflections of trillions of stars above her.

A hand grasped her shoulder, and Janet jumped.

"It's okay," Stephen said quickly, coming alongside her. "It's me."

Relaxing, she returned her gaze to the waters below. "So this is…?"

"Your mindscape," he finished affirmatively.

"And what about Chthon? How do we find him?"

Stephen took a deep, steadying breath. "I have a feeling that he'll come to us."

Just then, the surface of the lake began to bubble and churn. Janet swallowed hard, an icy chill running down her spine. Even with Stephen at her side, she feared that their combined powers would prove useless against this demon of the _Darkhold_.

"If we don't make it out of this—"

"We _will_ ," he insisted, reaching over and giving her hand a firm squeeze.

She met his gaze. Whether it was heroic determination or sheer stubbornness that she saw in his eyes, she might never decide, but she admired it. And now, when her own courage was all but crushed, she needed it more than ever.

"You _dare_ to challenge me?" a monstrous voice thundered.

Janet was shaken, the sound so deep—so loud—that it vibrated her chest. Something surged out of the water behind them, and the Cloak managed to jerk Stephen out of the way in time, but she wasn't so fortunate. A huge, clawed hand closed around her body and snatched her from the cliff. Petrified, Janet found herself staring up into the horned, skull-like face of a black behemoth with hungry red eyes. His bat-like wings flattened against his sides as he dove back toward the lake, and she struggled in vain to escape from his painful grasp.

"Janet!" she heard Stephen cry with dismay.

And the last thing she saw before they hit the water was his red Cloak billowing behind him as he took off in pursuit. Janet expected to be completely submerged and then ruthlessly drowned, so she took one more breath and held it in preparation. But the moment her back struck the surface, all breath was slammed from her lungs. She was instantly soaked from head to toe, but then she was falling through open air once again.

The water had been no more than ten feet deep, and now they were descending into a shadow world with dead planets whose fiery cores were splitting and fracturing. Jagged forks of lightning flashed across a black sky, and Janet finally gathered enough concentration to try to teleport herself out of Chthon's grip. But something was preventing her from doing so. In her frustration, she summoned a violet blade and plunged it into one of his clawed fingers.

The demon roared, and she stabbed him again, forcing him to release her. Tumbling head over heels, Janet spread her arms wide and summoned wings of light to control her flight. She flipped backwards and grabbed onto one of Chthon's horns, preparing to work her way up to the crown of his head. But one of the barbed tendrils on his back coiled around her legs and yanked her free, and she cried out in pain as they penetrated her flesh.

At that moment, Stephen caught up to them, and he severed the tendril with a flaming sword. A bellow of rage thundered through the abyss as Chthon twisted and swatted at Stephen as if he were nothing more than an irritating insect. Stephen managed to dodge the massive hand, and while the demon was distracted, Janet slipped through and buried her blade in the center of his exposed chest. He swung wildly at her, but as he spiraled out of control, she desperately held on and dragged her weapon all the way down his torso. Black blood gushed forth, and the giant back of a hand suddenly struck her.

Janet's concentration was shattered. Her sword sputtered and then vanished—as did her wings—and everything went dark. She didn't know how long she had been unconscious, but when she came to, she was plummeting toward a barren plateau. Instinctively, she tucked her knees to her chest and crossed her arms in front of her face, and at the last possible moment, she managed to conjure an egg-shaped shield around herself to cushion her fall.

She hit the ground hard, leaving a long furrow in her wake before she finally skidded to a stop. Her barrier faded, and Janet was left lying in a shallow crater of rocks and dirt. She moaned, blinking in an attempt to clear her blurred vision. There was a commotion somewhere above her—crashing and clashing. The sounds of battle.

Something was falling toward her—a tangled mass of light and darkness. Pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, Janet watched in horror as Stephen and Chthon crashed on the opposite side of the plateau. The impact of the landing sent Stephen rolling, but then he lay still. The demon recovered more quickly, rising to his fullest height and trudging toward her. He walked with a slight limp now, but the blow she had dealt him appeared to be little more than a flesh wound.

Saliva spewed from his gaping maw, his sharp teeth bared and eager to devour her. "Weak souls taste lovely," he growled, "but do you know what I like better? A soul that resists. A soul that believes it can triumph over a god."

Janet stood with a grimace and turned to face him fully. "If you're so powerful, then why do you need me?"

Chthon snarled viciously, and she knew that she had struck a nerve.

"I made you special. I gave you purpose! Without me, you are nothing."

"No," she countered with a shake of her head, "you are a parasite, corrupting and feeding off of a power that is mine. Without you, I am free. And my soul? It is unconquerable."

The demon's eyes narrowed with murderous malice. "We shall see."

He halted, leaving nearly thirty feet of empty space between them. Janet took a slow, deep breath and closed her eyes. _In and out_ , she told herself. _In and out…_

Behind the darkness of her lids, she sensed the black magic surging inside him like smoke inside a dragon that is preparing to breathe fire. She imagined his snake-like jaws opening wide, and she heard the familiar rush—the roar—of a legion of undead voices rising at the summons of their master.

And then they were unleashed.

Death charged forth from the mouth of Chthon, cascading toward her like a tidal wave of blood and carnage. But when it slammed into her with the force of a thousand Stygian chariots, Janet stood firm. Fear and loss. Pain and despair. Hatred and suffering. She knew them all.

But instead of rejecting them, she welcomed them as old friends and transformed them. Darkness had buried her—had encased her like a cocoon—for far too long. It was time to wake up. It was time to be born anew.

Faith was her shield. Hope was her light. And love was her victory.

Janet's feet left the ground, her arms unfurling as the brilliance of a star radiated out from her. Chthon howled in anguish and hid his face from her, but when he tried to turn and flee, she stretched out a hand and dragged him back toward her with telekinetic force. Her brightness blinded him, causing him to fight and recoil. But there was no escape for him now.

A tear slid down Janet's cheek. "This is for Jack—and for every other life you've ruined with your lies."

She lifted him into the air, her light swallowing his darkness. His demonic shrieks threatened to split her eardrums, echoing through the void and splintering the few celestial bodies that were still intact. But she persisted, light beaming from her palms and piercing his black heart. And when he could withstand it no more, Chthon's red eyes darkened, and his shadowy form shattered from within.

A shockwave rippled outward, knocking Janet backwards. When she managed to regain her balance, she realized that the plateau had collapsed into the abyss below, and terror seized her. Where was Stephen? Had he fallen with it?

"Janet."

She turned and saw him floating there, the Cloak of Levitation billowing around his shoulders and his eyes shining with pride. She smiled at him, tears of relief spilling down her cheeks.

"It's over," she breathed, hardly believing it. "He's gone."

As her light dimmed and the last of her adrenaline and sheer desperation faded away, exhaustion claimed her. She had no energy left to sustain her flight, every ounce of her strength having been completely and utterly spent. But when she collapsed, Stephen was there to catch her. And as Janet succumbed to the silence of unconsciousness, a feeling washed over her that she had not experienced since the day her powers had first awakened.

Peace.


	34. Chapter 34

When her eyes opened, the scream that ripped from her throat was nothing next to the sound of Oscorp crumbling around her. Wiping black soot from her eyes, Cassie stared at the open sky above her, where there had once been a roof. Blood drizzled down her forehead and into her open mouth.

"Friday located her over here."

Tony's recognizable voice drifted to her through a haze. She had no idea who he might be speaking to.

She should've listened. She should've left when Janet told her to. She hadn't expected all that she saw.

Cassie had watched what had happened in the mindscape-through Stephen's eyes. But it had suddenly ended, and she'd drowned in pain. A blur covered her eyes, and Cassie let out a moan. He was gone. Stephen was dead. Somewhere deep inside her, she could feel his absence, and she could only assume that meant he was gone.

Cold metal pressed against her forehead, and Cassie tried to focus on the fuzzy face above her. "Tony," she whispered.

He tried to lift her in his arms, but she cried out as pain spread through her limbs. A broken spurt of power sparked from her fingers as a new scream tore from her throat. Tony immediately dropped her.

"I'm sorry. I-I don't know..."

Rolling into a ball on her side, Cassie stared at something that seemed to lie right on the edge of her vision. A red cape fluttered about fallen concrete, and she could barely make out the shape of his body.

"Stephen-" she choked on the blood that coated her mouth.

"Wanda and Vision are over there now," Tony assured her. He was kneeling by her side, not daring to touch her. "He's okay. He has Janet."

Confusion clouded her thoughts. That wasn't possible. She could feel that he was gone. Her soul felt empty. Never before had she felt a presence or lack of one in her soul, but she could now.

Attempting to stand, she pushed Tony's hands away, staggering toward the spot where Stephen sat, cradling Janet in his arms.

"Stephen-" The sound of her voice was deep, broken, and it surprised even her ears.

Stephen's head shot up at the sound, and he gazed at her in confusion. After sliding Janet gently into Vision's arms, he stood and limped toward her. Cassie barely noticed the woman whom she'd thought was going to kill her, whose hair was now completely white.

Before Stephen could reach out his hand, she took a step back and raised both arms in defense. "Don't touch me," she gasped. "I-I'm not okay. I'm dangerous. I can't control it."

Holding out a hand for him to see, she tried to let the magic crackle across her fingers. It sparked, once, on her index finger and died. All at once, it felt as though someone had punched her in the gut, and she collapsed onto one knee. Looking away from Stephen, she spat a wad of blood from her mouth and wiped her face with the back of her hands. Tony stood behind her, and Vision held Janet in his arms.

Stephen followed her down and held out his hands, an inch from hers. "Cassie?"

Her eyes flickered up to him and away again. Pain coursed through her veins, and she didn't want to touch him. She didn't want to find out that he wasn't real, that she'd been right the first time, and he was dead.

"Why can't I feel you?" she whispered.

"Feel me?" he repeated.

"You're-you're not there," she choked as blood continued to drip down the back of her throat.

"The Time Stone," he whispered.

Without waiting any longer, Stephen reached out and took both of her hands in his. Though she flinched, trying to pull back, he didn't let go.

"The Time Stone," he repeated, "was destroyed."

A shiver ran over her body.

"I've suspected it for a long time, Cassie. What happened in Hong Kong-it connected you to me and to the Time Stone. It gave you your powers and your strength. Now that it's gone, we aren't connected anymore."

He squeezed her hands gently, prompting her to look up at him. His grey eyes swirled with emotions, but fear was not one of them. They calmed the roaring terror that threatened to consume her.

"It's the reason Jack needed you. The reason he thought you were the one Chthon searched for. You were powerful. You still are. He was going to use you to summon Chthon."

Stephen reached forward and wrapped her in his embrace. When nothing happened, Cassie wrapped her arms around him and breathed in deeply the smell of his cloak.

"You're going to be all right," he whispered against her ear. "We'll get through this just like we have everything else. You're still here, and that's what matters."

For a long time, she couldn't let go. Cassie held on to him, trying not to think about what all of this meant for her. She obviously still had power coursing in her. Power she'd never wanted in the first place.

"We should leave." Tony's voice cut through the silence. "Media will be on us in an instant. We'll have legal hoops to jump through. I mean, a building just came down. Cap's making sure everyone in the surrounding area is unharmed and safe."

When she pulled away, Cassie looked down at her hands. They were covered in dark soot and blood. Her eyes roved around the mounds of concrete and building fragments. The sun shone mockingly overhead. The cultists were gone. She didn't know what had happened to Jack's body or the Darkhold.

Stephen gently kissed her forehead. "Cassie, I have to help Janet, okay? She's not well, and we aren't prepared for the onslaught of media attention that's about to be directed at her. Or the law enforcement. So I'm taking her to the Sanctum."

"Go," she whispered. "Take care of Janet."

He smiled gratefully and stood, leaving her side, retrieving Janet from Vision, and summoning a portal. Tony placed his hand on her shoulder, and she subtly flinched.

"Come on," Tony murmured.

Standing, she placed a hand on his arm to steady herself. Something caught the corner of her eye as she attempted to limp forward. The Darkhold. Cautiously, she reached for it and held it close to her chest.

Making her way from the remains of the rubble, she clutched the Darkhold as a safety that held her on her feet, Tony's hand on her back.

"Cass!"

Her head shot up at the sound of his voice, and her mouth fell open. "Steve-"

Unable to take another step, she waited for him to come to her. He wore his uniform, shield strung on his back, confidently striding toward her. She noticed behind him in the distance that there was police tape and lines of officers. Clint stood, facing her direction, arms crossed over his chest and sunglasses on, bow on his back. Her eyes traveled back to Steve as he slid both of his hands onto her neck.

"Stevie-" she choked out, feeling the Darkhold fall from her grasp as she placed her hands on his forearms.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, running his hand through her hair.

"I promised," she whispered against his lips, playing with the dark blond hair at the bottom of his neck. "But I didn't know."

He grinned and shook his head. "Next time I'm coming with you."

As he held her in his arms, the emptiness within her diminished, and she pressed her hands against his chest. The sound of sirens interrupted the moment, and Steve turned, wrapping his arm around her midsection, helping her to stand.

"Come on, pops," Tony said, walking up and scooping the Darkhold off the concrete. "We gotta go. Powell, you coming?"

Her eyes flickered up to Steve's, and she nodded. "Of course."


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has stuck with Hannah and I on this crazy journey! Every view, fav, and review really does mean the world to us. We are so grateful for the support that you have given us since this trilogy began with Arcanum. YES I said trilogy! Written below is the Epilogue for Invictus...and very, very soon the third and final installment of this story will begin! Keep an eye out. Inferno is coming!

\- Madison

IIIIIIIII

The red sun sank beneath the smoke-filled skyline of Manhattan, a lone figure standing on a nearby rooftop and silently observing the mortals scrambling like ants amidst a leveled hill. The mass panic, the fevered anguish, the all-consuming chaos—oh, what a marvelous sight to behold!

Mephisto grinned with diabolic glee as Tony Stark picked up the _Darkhold_ and casually tucked it under his arm. The _Book of Sins_ had once again proven indestructible, but Chthon's attempt to possess the woman called Janet Carlisle had failed. _No matter,_ he thought. In fact, things would be much more fun this way. Let the beaten Elder god crawl back to his dimensional prison and wallow in his disgrace for a century longer.

It was Mephisto's turn now, and his schemes would not be thwarted so easily. He would mercilessly and methodically exploit their each and every weakness—of which there were many. He would completely and utterly break them, and only when they offered him their souls would he finally relent.

He would start with Stephen Strange. For if a man of such arcane wisdom and spiritual resilience could be corrupted and his soul claimed, then there was no mortal in all the universe that could withstand his wiles.

 _When the Sorcerer Supreme falls,_ he thought with a wicked smile, _there will be no one left to save them. And the world will bow before the Lord of Evil._


End file.
